The Butterfly Effect
by MythicRhyvon
Summary: What if: The Lady Catelyn didn't let Jaime Lannister go free whilest he was captive in the North? The smallest change can have the most resounding effects. How might that one difference have shaped the course of the war? Jaime Lannister/Arya Stark
1. Chapter 1

The Butterfly Effect

The cold felt like a familiar old friend as she stepped off a ship and onto dry land for the first time in a moons turn. Of course, the cold could be felt on the Narrow Sea as well as on land, but the sight of endless snow somehow made it seem even more so. Still, she was farther South than she would have preferred, docking in Gulltown rather than Oldtown as was her desire. Ships, it seemed, weren't going that far north often enough for her to be able to wait- not under the circumstances in which she'd fled Braavos and the House of Black and White.

It took a surprising small amount of coin to secure a hot meal of watery stew, a room for the night, and a horse come morning, but she supposed the ongoing war made desperate men everywhere and a little coin was better than none at all. She also managed to trade for a pair of thick woolen black trousers and a plain spun black cloak with a deep hood. When she saw the beast she'd purchased the next morning, she felt a mixture of annoyance and pity for the scrawny thing, but she supposed grass was as hard to come by as anything else that grew under the snow.

Feeling a small surge of gratitude that she was still light enough to not cause her horse much of a burden, she mounted. The motion was odd, like stepping into a shoe that didn't fit quite right anymore. She hadn't been on a horse in years, after all. She turned it around and set off towards the Kingsroad, hoping it might make for easier passage than the deep snowdrifts she could see all around.

The first week passed by easily enough. She dared not camp on the road at night alone and so instead would move off and find a secluded clearing to rest against the nag for shared warmth. On the fourth night, she was lucky enough to find a small and broken house with most of a wall missing. Even still, it provided her and her mount both with more shelter than they'd managed thus far, and even more luckily, she found a half-dozen bundles of hay stacked away that still seemed dry enough for it to eat.

She took the quickest route north, a burning need to get to Winterfell and join the King of the North and the great gathering of troops that was being spoken of even across the Narrow Sea. They said the Crown and the Lannister/Tyrell alliance were marching North after having declared a formal cease fire so that they may join forces with the King in the North and the army of Wildlings that had passed through the wall in order to defeat the enemy that threatened them all. With them was the Dragon Queen, said to have an army of freed slaves, sell-swords, and Dothraki savages at her back, alongside the aforementioned dragons.

Most in Braavos considered it a flight of fantasy- tall tales bore of dullness and monotony often found in the deep winter, but she knew better as soon as she caught the whispers. Jaqen had just offered her a second chance at proving herself after her previous failure and so she'd made her way back to the Theater to observe the Lady Crane. It was there she heard her brother Robbs name- something that never failed to grab her attention despite her lingering unhappiness with him and her mother- and even more so when they whispered of her bastard brother and his army of wild men and cannibals.

She had already been faltering in her will to kill the actress- for why would a good woman die simply for the petty jealousy of another? She had truly accepted the teachings of the house and vowed to service the Man Faced God however she might- but she found she couldn't be a mindless assassin, killing anyone without question over a bit of coin. Perhaps it was her Stark blood, or the voice of her deceased father she still heard whispering about honor in the back of her head, but when she heard the outlandish talk her decision was settled in an instant.

The thought to warn the Lady Crane of her impending assassination crossed her mind, but she knew it would be pointless- '_once a name is spoke a man is dead already, he simply doesn't know it yet'_\- echoed through her mind and she knew the Lady would meet the May Faced God one way or another. Better to allow her to live out her numbered days in blissful ignorance than for her to spend them looking over her shoulder and waiting deaths call.

No, instead she broke discreetly from the crowd, unaware of the Waif watching her go with calculating eyes, and made her way back to the front of the temple. She found where her sword was still hidden inside the rocks and began to dig it out. She retrieved it quickly and then made her way to the harbor to find a ship going West. There was but one ship sailing for Gulftown and none going farther North, so she settled for a longer foot journey once she arrived and made her way aboard.

Hardly more than a month later and she was back on familiar grounds, making her way back home. It was almost difficult to believe- she'd been close once before but had turned away in the pursuit of Jaqen and the teachings of the House once she heard the Northern Bannermen talking in pity of her betrothal to one of the Frey men.

She knew the Hound had heard them too, as they trudged their way past the smaller camps trailing behind the main troop, because he'd shot an indecipherable look at her before turning his chin away riding on. Her mind had raced at the new knowledge and she'd kept her ears open as they sought shelter for the last night before they'd meet up with the bulk Robbs army. The Frey's had wanted Robbs hand to join with a woman from their own to join their families in marriage, it was said, but he offered his youngest sister and uncle both as a substitute for an alliance instead of himself.

She'd been so angry that night. She hadn't seen her mother or brothers in so long- hadn't truly known if she'd ever get to see them again- and yet their only concern for her was in bartering her absent self off for a handful of men to add to their numbers. She knew the Hound had every intention of trading her back to her family in exchange for a payout, and that he likely wouldn't agree to turn away from their course, not when they were finally so close. The knowledge that she was naught but a price to all who knew her for her name left her choking on her bitterness, and so she did not let her captor turned savior know she was leaving before she did. Instead, she snuck away in the night and had fled to White Harbor on a stolen horse, where she found passage to Braavos.

A bit of her was still angry, but she couldn't allow it to drive her away from her family anymore- not with what was apparently happening all around them. She needed to return, needed to keep them safe. They couldn't afford for her to be selfish or bitter any longer. That brought her to now, and the faint sound of horses she could hear as she approached the Crossroads and the Kingsroad true. The snow was becoming too deep and dangerous to navigate off the main path and so she was forced to press onward, hoping the men ahead were friendly.

When the noise was loud enough that she knew they would soon be in sight, she dismounted and secured the horse to the skeleton of a bare overhanging branch and crept farther forward to investigate. She found row after row of crimson and gold armor riding by, the Lannister flag scattered throughout the ranks leaving no question as to which army she was looking at. She could see the gold of the Baratheon flag being flown beside the Lannister red, and farther back the green and yellow of the house Tyrell. There were others, but she couldn't quite make them out from the distance. She must have met them as they moved to join the Northern ranks, she realized with an odd feeling.

Deciding she couldn't bare wait for the large force to pass and then to travel slow enough to remain behind them, she moved to retrieve her mount and was soon back in saddle. She pulled her hood farther over her bowed head, sharp eyes hidden in the shadows, and pressed forward. She waited and watched until there was a small gap in the ranks and then nudged her horse to join them. It was impossible to not be noticed in her all black clothing, the white blouse she'd been wearing since she left the theater was hidden beneath her cloak, with no sigil or color to identify her as one of them. Her frame looked petite, despite the skinniness of the black mare she'd been given, and it was fairly obvious she was either a woman or child. She would've preferred a white horse to better blend in, but it hadn't been an option and she would rather a black mount than no mount at all.

She nudged the mare forward and into a pace just slightly faster than the armored troops, keeping to the edge and moving steadily so that she could try to outpace the army without grabbing their attention. Despite her efforts, she could see the looks being sent towards her as the men questioned amongst themselves where she had come from. Still, no one bothered her and she was able to make a small amount of progress before it began to grow dark.

The troop stopped and began assembling tents at a wider swatch of the road. She had already decided that she would press on and try to clear the army before the nights end. The slow pace they were forced to maintain meant her horse wouldn't drop if they didn't stop, and she hoped the noise of camp would cover the sound of them still moving.

She made it clear to the head of the troop before she was stopped, and she curse silently in her head as she considered her options. She could see the clear road ahead, but she wasn't sure her mount would be able to outrun the much healthier looking destriers the army had and, for all her improvement, she wasn't so confident as to think she could take on an entire army by herself.

"What's your business here?" The armored man closest to her demanded as two more took place behind her.

"I'm just passing through." She replied calmly. "I don't mean to bother anyone here. If you let me pass you won't see me again." She assured, taking a chance and nudging the mare forward to see if they would let her pass with that but of course it wouldn't be that easy. Swords were drawn and drew the attention of even more men.

"What's the meaning of this?" A stern voice demanded from nearby. She glanced over to see none other than Tywin Lannister himself standing before a grand tent, his Kingslayer son standing beside him and looking over the scene boredly, dressed down and stripped of his armor for the night.

"We caught this one sneaking through camp, My Lord." The man reported. "She says she's just passing us by ."

She held her tongue, knowing the elder man would likely recognize her voice from the hours spent in her company whilst she acted the part of his cupbearer. Tywin looked at her with piercing eyes, clearing waiting for her defense. "Well?" He demanded at her continued silence. "Anything to say?"

"I'm just passing through, My Lord." She responded when it became clear she would have to. Still, she kept her answer brief and voice bland, hoping he might not recognize her. The hope was moot, for his eyes sharpened further and he searched over her person.

"Remove your hood." He ordered briskly. His son glanced at him and then at her, slightly more intrigued.

She closed her eyes for a moment, mind still racing. She honestly couldn't decide if she was pleased to see him or not. When she last had, he'd been riding off with his army and she'd been sure he was going to slaughter her brother. But here they stood, years later, houses soon to be aligned, her brother still alive and her sister also so because of the trade of hostages that would be spoken of in song for decades to come- the golden Lannister son for the fire kissed beauty of the North, once betrothed to a prince.

He cleared his throat pointedly and she knew she couldn't delay any longer. She reached up without further hesitation and lowered her hood. The top of her hair was pulled back to keep it out of her eyes, but it was otherwise loose to help better trap her body heat against her neck. It had grown longer, longer than he had ever seen it, reaching past her shoulders. Her face had matured and sharpened and she held the beginnings of a dark beauty she hadn't in her youth, but she still remained herself. "Lord Tywin." She greeted at the recognition lighting his eyes. "Ser Jaime."

Lord Tywin had never met her before Harrenhal, having been ruling Casterly Rock when she resided in the Capital and so had no point of reference for who she might be. Jaime, on the other hand, had spent a significant amount of time studying the girl and her family for suspicion after he'd pushed her younger brother from a tower window, and so recognized her features immediatly. "Lady Arya?" He questioned, taking a step forward, the befuddlement in his voice clearing showing his own confusion at the girl who'd been missing and considered dead since the beheading of her father turning up randomly in their camp years later.

Lord Tywin's eyes shot over to his son and then back to the girl, peering closer still. "Are you _sure_ this is the missing Stark daughter?" He questioned, voice light.

"Positive." Jaime responded, still sounding confused. "I remember her face from Winterfell and from the Red Keep. She was always scurrying around underfoot when her father was hand. But I thought her dead?"

"Everyone thought her dead." Tywin corrected, an odd note to his voice. Arya wondered then if he had suspected who she was all along. How many high born girls from the North could go lost and unclaimed, after all? She had denied being high born, of course, but she knew he never believed her lie. Still, he'd been kind to her, had taken her under his personal protection and had kept her fed and warm as well as he could considering their location in the ruins of the once great keep.

He'd spoken to her without looking down upon her, listened to her and showed her a sort of attention she hadn't felt since her fathers death. She'd become fond of him, as much as she would deny it, despite the fact that he'd been actively working to kill her brother and cull her remaining family as a threat to the crown. That fondness wouldn't have stopped his death had Jaqen been in the city when she needed him, but had lingered all the same.

"Come, My Lady." He offered, gesturing to the tent they'd exited from. "Sup with us."

Arya glanced around one more time before giving in and dismounting. A squire moved forward to take her horses reins and she allowed it after a longer hesitation. She could get by without the mare if need be, all her belongings were on her person after all, so the only loss would be the horse itself. She stepped forward silently, not even the snow crunching under her boot, and moved to join them in the brazier warmed tent.

She felt too hot almost immediately after a week surrounded by ice and soon had to remove her cloak, leaving her in her fitted white blouse, thick pants, and almost knee high boots. Whilst a normal and acceptable outfit in Braavos, the Lords of Westeros were unused to seeing a lady dressed so- only a thin white shirt covering her chest whereas most Westerosi ladies would wear thick and heavy dresses built of layers of ornate fabric.

The lack of layers allowed the curves of her newfound womanhood to be visible despite the blockiness of her pants and she noticed Jaime casting her discreetly appreciative looks as he settled off to the side of the tent. She turned her attention away and back to the one who had first gained it. "I am glad to see you still live, My Lord." She stated quietly, having accepted it as truth the more she thought about it.

"Are you?" The man questioned with a raised brow. "I was fairly convinced you wanted to kill me yourself most days."

A smile came to her lips unbidden. "Most days I did." She acknowledged. "It seems things have changed for the better in my long absence." She continued, hinting at the large scale alliance in the works.

"You might see it that way." He agreed with a small nod. "Have you eaten? We've stew left from supper."

"I haven't." She replied and then watched in surprise as he rose himself to gather a bowl and spoon out some of the mix from the pot sitting aside the brazier. "Thank you." She uttered when he handed it to her without a word himself. She began eating slowly, not allowing her hunger to drive her actions as it once would have. She'd been far hungrier blind on the streets before she managed to adapt after all.

Father and Son resumed their previous conversation and she filled her belly and only turned back to her when she had finished. "I wondered what had happened to you in my absence." Tywin stated from his own seat, cup of wine in hand as he observed her. "Our Army was recalled to Kings Landing before we could return to Harrenhal. I sent for you to be brought to the capital but my men reported your disappearance soon after I left."

"Does it truly matter where I've been, so long as I am here now?" She questioned in turn, feeling unwilling to share her recent past with anyone just then.

He seemed to sense her stubbornness, for he responded in the negative. "I suppose not. Still, it is late. I assume you are headed to the same place as us. Why not take your rest here tonight and then travel with us to Winterfell. It is much safer than a young woman traveling the Kingsroad alone in these times."

"I'm safe enough on my own." She disputed and then hesitated. "But I suppose I can travel with you for a time. I may not want to keep to the pace of the army though." She finished in warning. Perhaps she could use the time to gain a better understanding of all that had happened since she left so that she might be better prepared before reuniting with her family.

"For tonight then, at least." He bargained.

"For tonight." She agreed.

"You can use my tent." Jaime spoke directly to her for the first time since she'd joined them. "I won't be using it myself tonight and it's close enough that the men won't bother you. I'll show you to it." He pushed himself from his seat. She rose instinctually in response, turning to keep him in her line of sight. She glanced at Tywin and he nodded at her to follow his son.

She followed without argument and the tent was indeed close enough- neighboring to the right, in fact, the entrance less than a dozen steps away. He held open the leather doorway for her to pass but did not follow her inside. "Pleasant dreams, My Lady." He rumbled like the lion his family was known for and then left her be. She found herself standing alone in the richly made tent that was only slightly smaller than his fathers. It was bare for the most part, holding naught but a thick bedroll, another brazier, and a small traveling writing table with a folding stool. The mans armor was settled to the side of the bedroll, a large leather pack lying beside it. His weapons he still wore, she knew.

She removed her boots but settled otherwise fully clothed into his bed, the scent of masculine musk hitting her strongly but strangely pleasant to her nose. She was more comfortable than she'd been some time and she attempted to get some real rest. Unfortunately her instincts kept her too on edge and the noises from the camp kept startling her awake seemingly every time she managed to drift off.

After what felt like hours, she gave in and sat up to pull her boots back on. She moved her small dagger back from it's position under the thin pillow back to it's proper spot built into her left boot and then moved from the fading warmth of the tent. Most of the men had settled in to rest themselves, but she could still hear various conversations drifting on the breeze.

She moved further away from the camp and into the woods beside the road, more easily able to navigate the now on her own than she had mounted. The cold of the night numbed her face almost immediately and she kept her hands tucked together beneath her cloak as she moved through the moonlight night like a dark ghost.

The crunch of snow came from over a rise before her and she moved cautiously closer to investigate, fingering Needle's hilt without drawing it free. As she came to the top of the rise, she saw a small heard of deer standing below, nosing at the snow in an attempt to find grass hidden beneath. They were as scrawny as her horse, and she knew most likely wouldn't survive the winter. Wishing she had a bow, she instead drew her dagger silently back out of her boot and gripped it carefully in her hand.

She waited what felt like ages for just the right moment. Eventually a male wandered closer to her position, head tilted just enough for her to get a good shot. A moment later her knife was buried hilt deep in the animals eye, blade piercing it's brain and causing it to fall immediately like a puppet with it's strings cut.

It happened so suddenly that the other animals didn't notice immediately- didn't notice until an arrow pierced the heart of another. She jerked her head around to spot none other than Jaime around the other side of the small valley, watching her watch him. She huffed silently and then moved over the rise to retrieve her knife and her kill, the others now gone in terror.

The Lannister son joined her from his own position, lifting his own kill over his shoulder with an ease she envied as she worked out the best way to transport her own with her much smaller frame. He turned away to take his back to camp and she settled on grabbing it by its hind legs and dragging it across the frozen snow, wishing she had her horse with her as she normally would have while hunting. As it were, she wasn't sure where they had fenced the mare for the night, and she hadn't felt like traipsing through the camp to try and find it.

She was almost half way back when the blond returned and grabbed her kill the same way he had grabbed his own. "Hey!" She exclaimed in surprise. "I don't need your help."

"Perhaps not, My Lady, but my way's faster."

"You don't need to call me that, you know. I haven't been a lady since I was a little girl."

"You're the trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn of house Tully. You brother is a king. You're a lady if there ever was one.. Unless you'd prefer Princess?" He sounded pleasant enough, but she could hear the hint of mocking beneath his charming veneer. She shot him a glare that let him know she saw through his facade.

"I prefer Arya." She refuted, though even that seemed odd. She hadn't been Arya in a long time either, not openly.

"As you say, Lady Arya."

She shook her head at him and picked up her pace. He matched her step for step, his own longer stride making it easy for him no matter how much she sped up. They were quiet the rest of the way back and they handed off the second carcass to the men responsible for feeding the Lannister army. She ensured they would return one of the hide's to her, for she had need of it and didn't want it to be claimed by whomever broke down the animal. One of the men assured her it would be returned and so she found herself being led back to the Kingslayers tent.

"How did you find me?" She finally asked as he moved over to stoke the near dead fire.

"I followed you."

"I would have noticed you following me."

"I didn't follow from behind, I followed from the front." She glanced at him and their eyes met for a long moment.

"I see. That's clever. I won't miss seeing you again."

"Of that I have no doubt. You should try and get some more rest, Lady Arya. It'll be light soon and we'll be moving out."

"How long do you reckon it'll take to reach Winterfell from here?"

"Three weeks, maybe, depending on the weather."

Three weeks. Three weeks until she would see her family again.

To be continued

Notes:

Hello all and thank you for reading my newest story. I've had this plot in my head for a long time and things have slowed down enough at work that I finally have some free time again. I hope to update this story throughout the course of the final season of a Game of Thrones. I hope you've enjoyed reading, please let me know what you think! Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

The camp was being broken down before the weak sunlight crested the hill the next morn. Arya had attempted to get some more rest, but did not have any better luck than she had before. Thus, she was risen and helping the men break down the camp before she saw either of the Lannister men. The deer hide had been returned to her as promised, scrapped clean and ready to be treated for use. She was also given a handful of meat strips she could eat from her horse along with all the men and did so lazily while she waiting for the troop to be ready. Luckily, they were as eager to get off the road as she and they were soon moving.

She soon found herself riding beside a man named Sir Bronn of the blackwater, who was gifted at using an excessive number of words to seemingly say nothing at all. Despite the pointlessness of most their conversation, she found herself enjoying his company and observing how he and Sir Jaime played off each other. They were clearly friends and it was interesting to get a perspective on the man she only ever saw guarding the king or posted blandly along a wall. The flagon of wine shared between the three helped keep the chill from setting in, and the day passed by surprisingly fast.

Lord Tywin rode further back, side by side with some of his councilmen, so she didn't really interact with him. They rode through the day, pressing forward until it was once again getting dark and then settling in to make camp. Arya decided to ride ahead and scout while the troop settled in. She hadn't gotten far when she heard noise behind her and saw her two daytime traveling companions drawing back even with her. "Haven't enough of riding yet today?" Bronn questioned as they pulled up to match her pace.

"I like to know what's ahead." She responded easily.

"Fair enough, I'm that way myself. Mind if we join you?"

Arya shot a look at them both. "Do I have a choice?" She questioned.

"Of course you've a choice, My Lady." Jaime answered her, shooting her that overly charming smile. "We simply don't want anything to happen to you before you rejoin your family. It wouldn't look good on us for you to die in our company after surviving for so long alone." She mentally reminded herself that they had no idea where she'd been or what she'd been learning and doing. No, they still considered her to be a helpless lady who needed their guard, despite the years of survival they spoke of.

They'd learn soon enough, she supposed, and she learned long ago that insisting alone never convinced anyone of anything. "You can join me if you wish." She allowed dismissively, nudging her mount "If you keep up."

They broke into an easy canter and the sounds of the camp soon faded behind them. They rode in silence for some time, eventually slowing to a walk when the reached a long open straight of road. The wineskin made another pass as their breath cloud thickened with the dropping temperatures of the coming night.

Arya pulled her mare up and dismounted, handing her reins to Jaime and then moving once again off the road. She gestured them both to stay behind and made her way to a tree a few steps into the wood. It was the first of it's kind she had seen and she'd been about to give up and turn around. She retrieved her dagger and used it to skin several strips of the dark bark from the bare trunk- making sure not to take so much as to kill the tree itself. The airy skirt she'd been wearing when she left Braavos was rolled up tightly in a pocked sewn into her cloak and she pulled it out to lay the bark in. Once she'd taken as much as she dared from the first three, she moved deeper to its twin nearby.

She turned to head back once she had enough to serve her purpose. On her way, she spotted a felled log that was held at an angle, leaving a rare patch free of snow hidden beneath. The clear patch beneath sheltered an abundance of a particularly hearty mushroom native to the area. She picked through the patch to take the ones ready to eat- you had to wait until they were a certain size or else they were much too bitter to stomach- and then added them to her neat pile. Once finished, she wrapped the excess fabric around it to make a bundle, which she secured to her saddle once she was back on the road. Task complete, she mounted and then reined her horse back toward the camp.

The return trip seemed to pass even faster and they were soon coming upon the clamor of the troop. The night promised to be cold- new frost already creeping across the frozen ground- and so large campfires had been lit in a neat row down the middle of the camp, the men gathered tightly around them. The same squire from before came to take her horse and she thought briefly to argue before deciding it wasn't worth it. Instead, she freed her hard-found bundle and made her way to the camp cook she spotted on arrival.

"Pardon, My Lord." She stated to gain his attention.

He looked up in surprise and then frowned. "My name to Tolden, My Lady, but I'm not a lord. What can I do for you?"

"Ah, apologizes. I wondered if you might have a large pot you could spare for the night?"

Tolden didn't look surprised- he'd been the one to give her back the raw hide, after all. "Aye, I thought you might ask." He moved around the wagon that was always stationed nearby him and retrieved a large and dented soup pot, plenty big and sturdy enough to serve her purpose.

"This is perfect. Thank you. I've something for you as well. It's not much, but they add good flavor to rabbit stew." She set down and unfolded her bundle, plucking the mushrooms from the top and handing them to the now smiling man.

"Thank you My Lady."

Arya nodded, toppling the bark shavings into the empty pot and then shaking out her empty skirt. It was stuffed back into her pocked thoughtlessly and then she gathered the pot and took it to the campfire nearest the head where Tywin and Jaime's tents had once again been erected. She set the soup pot right next to the flame and then scooped snow in until it was half full of bark water. She settled in and watched until the water began to simmer. Once it had, she stood and retrieved the neatly folded hide from her borrowed tent. She unfolded it and then carefully submerged it until it was fully covered by the bark tea.

It would need to soak a day so she was hoping the cook would afford space in the wagon to carry it flat when they set off the next morn. A bowl of stew appeared in her peripheral, the wrinkled hand giving away who held it before she ever glanced up to check. "Good ride?" He questioned as he sat himself beside her.

"Fruitful."

"So I see. Can I ask what you need to make?"

She finished her bite before responding. "I need pack. Didn't bring one with me."

"Are you a leather smith now? Interesting skill to pick up on the road." He said casually, blue eyes watching and expression giving away that he was still curious of where she'd been, even if he'd passingly agreed to let the subject go.

"Not a leather smith, no. I only learned enough to get by."

"Shame."

Arya glanced at him with a brow slightly raised. "Why is that a shame, exactly?"

"Jaime broke his sword belt. Not the first time he's done it, either. You'd think he would have learned better by now." Tywin informed her with the long suffering exasperation only a parent could convey.

"How'd he break it? It seemed fine earlier."

"He broke it days ago during a small scuffle while he was scouting. He has it tied to hold it in place."

"Risky solution." She commented.

"Not a lot of options out here."

"You've each a squire, someone to set up your tent, a cook, a cupbearer, and even a farrier in your envoy, but you don't have anyone who can work leather?"

The smallest hint of a smile curled one corner of the man's mouth. "I'll add it to the list next time we march."

"Probably a good idea if your son's so hard on his gear."

"His problem is that he's so used to buying a new one when the old get's worn that he's very practiced in making last what he already has."

Arya turned to look at him, brow raised further than before. "You do realize how sad that sounds, right?"

He raised his own brown in turn. "Aye, I know. Too much privilege growing up."

"He joined the Kingsguard when he was sixteen, right? The youngest knight to ever do so. That's quite the feat- you must have been proud of him."

"It was the proudest moment and worst day of my life." He continued at her look of confusion. "Jaime was always a good with a sword, near unbeatable despite his young age. He deserved his spot on the Kingsguard. That's not why he was selected."

"It's not? Why then?" Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, lost on the wind.

"The Mad King was paranoid. He feared everyone- enemy and alley alike. He feared I would use the might of my family to destroy what was left of his. He needed a way to keep me in check, so he took my heir under his oath."

"I, I didn't realize." She uttered, though it made sense even as he spoke the words. "I'm sorry."

"Why would you be sorry? You weren't even born yet."

"I can still be sorry it happened. I _am_ sorry it happened."

Their eyes met and he nodded his head, slower than before. "Thank you." He finally replied, voice heartfelt. "But it's no matter now. He survived the ordeal, hale and whole, as you can see."

"Is that why he killed him?" Arya questioned hesitantly, unsure if she could ask- unsure if she _should_.

Tywin's neck twitched slightly and he shook his head. "That's not my story to tell. You'll have to ask him yourself if you want to know his reasonings… I will say, though.. There were days I'd have rather him been dead that have to stand and bare witness to the atrocities committed by the Mad King during his rule."

"Valar morghulis." She murmured, drawing his gaze once more.

"Aye, all men must die." He agreed.

Another week passed by in the same manner. She wasn't sure why she hadn't broken away from the army and ridden ahead, but something seemed to hold her back. It was late and she sat inside the Kingslayers tent once more, putting the finishing stitches on the task she was working on with a heavy needle borrowed from one of the men.

Satisfied with the job she'd done, she pulled her cloak back around her shoulders and headed to the entrance to find the man she sought. She tried the Lords tent first and found him as expected along with the councilmen who usually spent at least part of the evening in Tywin's company. He glanced up at her when she entered but otherwise paid her no mind as she inched her way around to his sons side.

"My Lady. What brings you to this most dour meeting?" He greeted her with the damnable little smirk.

"Will your father mind if you leave?" She questioned, ignoring the first as she'd started doing.

Jaime glanced over at the man to see him already watching the two of them. He raised a brow at the older man only to receive a hand raised to dismiss them. "I don't think he minds." Jaime responded sardonically and then pulled himself from his seat as she stepped back. "Where shall we go?"

"Your tent."

"An invitation to my own tent? How generous!"

She shot him a look from the corner of her eye. "You needn't have offered me your accommodations. I'd have been fine in the open as I have been. Where have you been sleeping, anyway?"

"Bronn offered to share his tent. To be honest, I'm starting to think I'd rather sleep in the open as well. The man snores something awful."

"Why not share with your father?"

A huff of laughter escaped the blond before he was able to stop it, incredulous mirth in his eyes. "For some strange reason, you seem to find my father's company tolerable. You're one of very few who could honestly boast such a thing. And more than that- you've somehow managed to make him like you in turn." He sounded confused again, but she thought he might have been putting it on for his dramatic act. "Tell me, how did you achieve such a feat? Many before you have tried and failed."

Arya rolled her eyes as she ducked inside, deigning not to respond. "Well regardless," He continued as he followed her. "I get plenty enough of my fathers company during my waking hours. I couldn't bare spend my sleeping hours with him as well."

They were facing each other, so he actually saw her roll her eyes the second time. She scooped up the long stretch of finished leather and held it out without ceremony. "What's this?" He questioned, not moving to take it immediately.

"You father told me your sword belt snapped and that you _tied it_ to make due. You can't afford a critical malfunction in battle. It's risky enough that you've been using it as long as you have like that."

"You made me a new sword belt?" He questioned. "Simply because my father mentioned in passing that mine was broken? Why would you do that?"

Arya studied him for a long moment, trying to decide how to answer but knowing she no longer had the option to postpone. "Don't think too much into it," She finally began. "your father saved my life, I owe him a debt… More than one dept, really. I know he cares for you and I know it would hurt him if anything happened to you. If I can help prevent such a thing I will. And-…" She trailed off, sounding unsure.

"And?" He prompted.

"And I've grown used to your company. I fear I would miss you if I you were no longer. Who else would I talk to on the road if not you? Plus, you're too good a knight to be taken out by something so silly as not taking proper care of your gear."

"Bronn's company's not on par with my own, I know." He joked, taking the story strap. "This is nice work." He commented then, studying it closer. The bark she'd used to tan it left it the color of dark walnut, so it would match the rest of his gear quite nicely. It was plainly done- she was hardly the type to add fancy embroidery or design, but her cuts were even and her stitches neater than she'd ever had the patience for as a child.

He reached down to unknow his old one and slid his sword free, swapping the old leather for new with a practiced hand. Once done he ran his fingers across it, testing it's give under the weight of good steel. "Thank you." He finally said, looking up to meet her grey eyes.

"You're welcome."

The days continued to blend together and they eventually reached the Neck. Arya was growing more and more impatient with the slow pace. Those closest to her were able to pick up on the change. When they set up camp less than a days ride from Moat Cailin, Arya announced her plan to travel ahead.

"Take my son and his sellsword with you, along with at least two other men." Tywin ordered brusquely from his place at his more elaborate writing table inside his tent.

"I'll be fine on my own." She argued, feeling a flair of aggravation at having to do so once again. "I was on my own a long time before I can to be in your company, if you'll remember. I'll continue to be fine on my own after I've left it again."

"I'm sure you will be, but we haven't received word from Moat Cailin in some time and we have no idea what we might find when we arrive. There is safety in numbers, however much you seem to despair the idea."

Arya met his steely gaze, her own eyes just as suborn as they stared each other down for an uncomfortable amount of time. She could have pressed longer, but concluded it really wasn't worth the energy arguing with the man would take. "Fine," she caved. "but I pick the men."

"Fine." The elder lord mocked her.

She huffed at him and rose from her place to take her leave. She did understand why his Jaime found being in his presence so exasperating at times, she thought to her self as the cold hit her. He glanced around the camp and men who'd become familiar to her over the past weeks. She'd made a point to speak with as many of them as possible, wanting to know their story as much as their names. She'd always found talking to strangers enthralling, but she had a new appreciation for storytelling than she ever had in her innocent youth.

She approached a pair of brothers who sat two fires down and took a seat across from them uninvited. "Lady Arya." They greeted her with a welcoming smile.

She smiled back. "Good eve. We'll reach Moat Cailin tomorrow, have you heard?"

"Aye, we have. Not much further now." The brother on the left- Herrath- answered.

"No, not much farther at all." She agreed lowly. "I plan to ride ahead in the morn and wait for the troop in the town. Lord Tywin asked that I take a couple of good men with me. You needn't say yes, but would you care to journey ahead with me?"

"We'd be honored, My Lady. We'll be ready to go at first light."

"Thank you." She stayed for some time speaking with them, Herrath's brother being Samurel. It was full dark when she entered Jaime's tent and she settled down to rest. She'd gotten better at sleeping with the noises of the camp that never fully faded, but she still woke more often that would be normal for anyone else.

Notes:

Shorter chapter, but the next scene is going to take quite a bit of time and will likely turn into a chapter of its own. It hasn't been fully proof read, so please let me know if you notice any mistakes and I will be sure to fix them :) Thank you all so much for reading and for all the feedback you're already left! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Look out for the next soon!


	3. Chapter 3

They didn't make it to the city.

Four hours into their journey, a clamor could be heard coming from further down the road, clearly identifiable as sword on sword to all present. They sped up slightly, but remained cautious as they approached a blind curve.

A scream suddenly pierced the air, still sounding a fair distance away. Arya nudged her mount into a canter, holding her reins with her right hand and laying her left atop Needle. She could hear the others just behind her as they rounded the bend to a scene of carnage. A small caravan had been set upon by a band of thieves and several bodies were already strewn across the snow, crimson stains growing larger by the second. A few remained alive, but likely wouldn't remain so for much longer if they didn't act quickly.

She reached instead for her dagger, gripping it surely and moving with the gait of her mount as she drew her arm back and flicked wrist, burring the small blade in the back of a mans neck who was bent over a young sobbing woman, severing his spinal cord. He fell forward limply and the woman shoved him off, movements jerky and hysterical. A child younger than three cowered nearby and she drew the small girl into her arms as soon as she'd shoved her skits back over her exposed legs.

Arya didn't pay her any further mind, a second man turning to face her gaining her focus. He had a sword in his hand but didn't managed to get it raised in time to block the slender steel before it pierced cleanly through his heart. None of the bandits were mounted and so she dropped gracefully to her feet, feeling more confident being fully in control of her movement than she did with the height advantage.

She twisted around to retrieve her knife from the fallen man, noting coldly that seemed to still be alive, if paralyzed and bleeding heavily, reddened cock still hanging out of his open pants. She opened his throat for good measure before facing the third man coming towards her. This man was larger and had time to prepare for her. He was on the offensive and his blows had plenty of strength behind them. She bowed over backwards to avoid a low sweep and then used the swing of her arm to help bring her body back around.

He'd put too much force behind his last blow, not expecting her to be able to doge it, and so his body spun slightly around as he recovered. She used his position to her advantage and sliced cleaning across the back of his knees, dropping him immediately to the ground. Another flick of her wrist open throat and she moved on. She was faintly keeping track of her companions around her but the task became all together more difficult when a surge of a dozen more men appeared from further ahead.

Still, she didn't allow herself to lose focus, keeping her eyes open and senses on alert as she moved with the flow of the unexpected skirmish. She spun clear of a blade swipe, but had to pull up short as a second man attempted to trap her from behind. The hesitation cost her and she felt a line of fire score across her upper back. She hissed quietly through her teeth and ducked, using her dagger to open the inside of the man's thigh and severing the artery she knew was there. Blood flowed immediately and he stumbled back, trying pointlessly to staunch the pouring of red liquid. He'd be dead in less than a minute she knew, and so didn't waste any more time delivering a second blow before she moved on.

She noted a wolf howl in the distance, the rest of the pack following a moment later. It sounded far enough away that she didn't pay it much attention, to focused on her next movement. Duck-parry-dodge, and so the cycle continued. Her heart was pounding with rush of adrenaline and her face twisted into grin as she moved gracefully atop splashes and puddles of red-stained snow.

A man interrupted her twist and she'd run her dagger clean up his front, disemboweling him with a horrid squelching sensation before he knew what had happened. His scream competed with an terrified horse nearby as he stumbled back with his hands shakily pressed over his gaping stomach to try and contain his spilling intestines. A flick of her wrist and a blade in his throat brought him to his knees and the splash of lifeblood added to the thick coating already covering her hands and arms.

The press of bodies slowed and tricked to a stop. Only when no others were in sight did she stop to take in the remaining scene. Dozens of bodies lay scattered across the road and the woman they'd first rescued could still be heard crying from her hunched position against one of the wagons, daughter bundled tightly in her lap. The third survivor seemed to have perished since their arrival but Arya wasn't moved. What was one life compared to so many?

She found a clean patch of snow and scooped some up to rub on hands. She repeated the process until most of the blood was gone and then dried them as best she could on the inside of her cloak. The four soldiers accompanying her were thankfully all still standing, if not a bit worse for wear, and were making their way through the carnage to check for other survivors. Assured of their continued wellbeing, she approached their sole known surviving pair and knelt beside them.

She began speaking in the same soft tone she had developed in the Sanctuary of the House of Black and White and used to sooth those who came to her for mercy before she fed them the poisoned water and led them to their deaths. "You're okay. Everything's going to be okay now. What's your name?"

"Nalia." The woman whispered in a raw voice.

"It's nice to meet you, Nalia. My name is Arya. What's your daughter's name?"

"Trysta."

"That's a pretty name."

"Yes, but she's not my daughter. When we found her, her parents had already gone with the Stranger. She'd have died if we left her there, so we brought her with us. We thought she would be _safe_ with us."

"You did keep her safe- you're the only two left alive. Where are you coming from Nalia? Where were you going?"

"I, we, we came from Greywater Watch. We were supposed to take supplies to the north. We don't have knights to send, bu-but my Uncle wanted to support the alliance as he could. We're really the only two?" She pleaded.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Your uncle?" She led, needing more information still.

"L-Lord Howland Reed. My father is his brother."

"I see. I've heard a lot about Lord Howland. He was friends with my father. We are heading to Winterfell ourselves, though we left the rest of our troop some ways back. You could join us if you wish. We could keep you and Trysta safe for the remainder of the journey.. Unless you'd rather turn back home?"

"No," She denied, sniffling once more and then straightening her spine. "No, I don't want to turn back, I want to press on. May I accompany you? Please?"

Arya glanced at Jaime first and then the others, seeing no argument from anyone. "Of course you may. There's one thing I need do before we leave this place. Perhaps you can gather the horses?" She requested, looking at her company. Jaime shot Bronn a look, who rolled his eyes exaggeratedly but turned to stroll leisurely towards them anyway.

The blond watched him go and then turned back to her with a slight shake of his head. "We should scout ahead and then wait here for the rest of the troop. We won't be able to drive the carts along with our own horses, let alone protect them if we're ambushed. Not on our own. We need more men."

Glancing around again and taking note of the number of wagons present, she had to agree. "They had to have come from the North. I should be safe enough here. Go, I'll wait for your return."

"I'll leave the brothers with you."

"No, we already know what's behind us and you'll be in front of me. If you run into any friends, you'll have more need of their blades than I. Take them with you."

Bronn wandered back, holding their mounts by the reins bundled in one hand. "You're a demanding little cunt, aren't ya. We goin' then?"

Jaime shot him a glare first before turning it on her. "You need at least one of them."

"I don't. This isn't for others to see, anyway. Go, I'll be fine." He still hesitated and she shot him a cold glare of her own. "Go, before a second wave surprises us for your stalling."

His gaze sharpened further but he finally mounted his horse with an annoyed huff that she barely heard. The other three men followed in his wake, having been able to hear the conversation on the otherwise silent air. They spurred their mounts and broke into an easy canter immediately.

Arya didn't waste any time in moving back over to the woman who'd managed to quiet her sobs. The young girl lay silently in her arms, gazing at a bloodied corpse nearby with a vacant expression that spoke of far too much violence for one so young. "You should wait in the wagon, My Lady. Our company will be here soon and we'll move on."

Nalia didn't seem to hear her at first, looking lost in her head, but finally nodded. Arya helped her to stand and cross the bloodied snow to the wagon built more akin to a chariot than supply transport. Arya suspected it was where she had ridden before the ambush. As soon as the two were out of her sight, she jumped into action, unsure of how much time she'd get before the men returned.

She started with those lost from the caravan, dragging the bodies to a flat and clean stretch of snow to the side and clear of any nearby trees. She paused at the end of the straight and knelt beside the first body. Using a handful of snow, she quickly cleansed the young mans face so that it was free of blood ad filth, and then moved down to his neck, wrists and hands. She stripped off their boots and tossed them beside one of the wagons and cleansed his feet and ankles as well. Their weapons followed, forming a second, smaller, pile beside the first.

Finished as best she could be with what little she had, she moved onto the next body and repeated the process. She was just finishing the attackers when a noise from the wood she was facing caught her attention. She paused in her task, looking up and around the woods surrounding her as she heard another noise come more from her left.

She stood slowly, wiping her hands on her pants and then drawing her sword. She creeped forward, only to hear a noise behind her as well. She circled slowly, eyes sharp and scanning for the cause, senses prickling in warning. When they attacked, they did so all at once. Six men emerged from farther in the woods, rushing her from all directions and entrapping her between them.

She considered herself to be a fairly skilled swordsman at this point, but she knew the odds were very much against her as she moved in a circle, looking for a break in their line or a way out of the mess she found herself in. They seemed to consider her an easy target because they attacked without hesitation. One man reached her just before the others and she was able to step into his reach and duck under his swing, bringing her small sword up to pierce him through the underside of his jaw and through his skull, killing him instantly.

The others grew angrier and two more moved in tandem to attacked, the other three remaining only a step back. She parried their blows well enough but knew something needed to give or they would manage to find an opening in her guard eventually. She ducked down and grabbed her boot dagger in the same motion, gripping it in her free right hand and then letting it loose after less than a half-second pause to aim.

Despite being her less dominant hand, the blade flew true and was soon embedded in one of the men's throats. He fell back with a choked gargle and freed her to move in that direction. She could see the other three get angry and all four remaining men moving towards her. The one farthest to her right managed to get past her guard after nearly a minute of her somehow managing to hold them off. She felt another line of fire score across her stomach and curve around her hip.

Her blood felt scalding against her frozen skin, but cooled and grew tacky quickly exposed to the conditions, making her clothing stick to her oddly and tug as she moved. She was vaguely aware of the wolves howling again, closer than before, but didn't let it distract her. She managed to dispatch another, leaving her with three. She could feeling fatigue settling into her limbs, and she wasn't sure how much blood she might actually be losing between her back and stomach.

A branch snapped and she glanced over as she dodged, heart sinking as another two men cleared the foliage. Where were they all coming from? There weren't any villages close by, so they must have either been traveling through or had taken residence in the surrounding woods. She swept her leg and tripped the man closest to her. Needle pierced the man's heart a hairsbreadth later and then gutted the fifth in the next motion. The newest two had arrived and she could see yet another approaching quickly.

She couldn't keep up the pace, there was just no way. Apparently, a month onboard a ship and a further three weeks traveling by horse was a bit hard on one's stamina, she thought to herself sarcastically. She allowed her body to drop into roll and then used the momentum to pull her back to her feet a few steps away from where she'd been.

The carriage horses spooked before she saw it. In fact, her first warning was the growl that split the air less than a second before a scream pierced it. The men she was still fighting hardly had a chance to glance around before they too began to scream. She watched in shock as an entire pack of wolves descended from the forest and congregated on the Kingsroad and just inside the tree line.

The shrieking didn't last long before it too was silenced. The wolves were still surrounding her, panting clouds of white breath into the air around her. A deep growl came from directly behind her and she turned slowly to look. Her sword was still clutched in her hand, but hung limply to her side as she took in the great beast crouching before her, teeth bared.

"Nymeria?" She whispered in disbelief. "Is that really you? I'm me, it's Arya." Nymeria stopped growling and pulled her massive head back a foot. Arya sheathed her sword carefully and then reached out an almost tentative hand towards the magnificent creature most would name a monster. Nymeria eyed her for a long moment before she stretched her nose out to sniff and the offered hand.

Arya didn't really worry about Nymeria taking off her hand in truth, but still the thought remained lightly in the back of her head for her girl was clearly wild. She found herself holding her breath in anticipation when the wolf took a step closer, moving from her hand to nose lightly at her stomach. Arya could hear the huff of her breath as she took in her scent. Her large tongue came out to lap at the blood that had saturated a spot of her cloak and was beginning to drip.

The girl brought her hand slowly to rest atop Nymeria's coarse fur. When she didn't get a negative reaction, she lifted her other hand to mirror the first, so they were both resting just behind the large furry ears. She moved her fingers and scratched her the same way she had liked as a pup. Nymeria's tail twitched and then swayed back and forth in a lazy wag of enjoyment.

No longer feeling any trepidation, she dropped to her knees and buried her fingers in the thick fur of her neck. Nymeria dropped her head slightly so that they were on the same level and nosed her shoulder and the underside of her chin. "I've missed you girl." Arya whispered. "I'm so glad you're okay."

The wolves that had been surrounding them calmly enough tensed almost at once and turned their heads. She followed their gaze to see the her small Lannister guard had come into sight without warning, the snow muffling the noise of their hooves completely. Most of the pack that had settled onto their bellies or hind ends rose back to their feet and turn to face the strangers with a collective growl. Nymeria paced several steps away, crouching almost protectively between her and them.

Arya could see the looks of shock and worry on the men's faces and she pushed herself back to her own feet, feeling foolish for not already having done so, though naught more than a second or two had passed. The two brothers drew their bows and took aim, but it would do little good against such a large pack she didn't know why they bothered. "No!" She spoke, pitching her voice to carry. "Don't shoot them. Just- don't come any closer." She ordered.

They exchanged looks but she didn't pay them any further mind. Nymeria had turned her face back to her at hearing her voice, one ear pitching as she listened. "No girl." She said quieter and more soothingly. "You can't hurt them. They're my friends." Arya continued as she stepped forward to lay her hand upon the rise of the her shoulder.

She didn't know how Nymeria could possibly understand her, but it almost seemed as though she could. She turned her head back to face forward and bared her teeth in a short but fierce warning snarl. Seemingly satisfied with herself, she lifted her head and let out a loud howl that was quickly picked up by not only the wolves visibly surrounding them, but by what sounded to be an even greater number remianing unseen in the woods surrounding them all.

The haunting noise seemed to go on for an age before it trailed off and their heads lowered once more. They didn't waste any time fading back into the woods with hardly a sound, though Nymeria paused on last time to press her great head gently against her wounded stomach. "I'll be okay. Go. Be with your pack." She urged, scratching behind her ears once more in turn. Nymeria stepped back and then followed her brethren back into the trees, disappearing from sight a second later.

The others arrived by her side seconds later, looking her over before glancing around at the cleaner and neatly laid out corpses, the piles of boots and swords, and the carnage that had befallen her since their departure not long before. "What happened?" Jaime demanded, though the scene pretty well spoke for itself.

"There were more men in the woods. They surrounded me before I knew they were there and then they attacked. The wolves killed what was left of them." She explained concisely, starting to feel a bit dizzy. She realized the pain from her wounds was gone and her body more frozen than it normally did from the cold, and she wondered how much blood she'd lost.

She reached down to feel her cloak and was surprised at just how saturated the black material had become with the viscous liquid. She unfastened it and pushed it aside to view the now almost completely red shirt she wore. A gash was visible starting on the lower left side of her rib cage, crossing down under her belly button and then ending in a small curve around her right hipbone. She wasn't sure what her back looked like, but the line had felt to be at least the same size. "Oh." She murmured. "Well shite."

She swayed lightly before tensing her body and forcing herself back straight. Jaime and Bronn both reached out to steady her but it wasn't necessary and she shrugged them off. Knowing what needed to be done she moved back towards where her mount stood and retrieved her borrowed needle and left over thread she still had from her newly finished pack.

It certainly wasn't going to be a pleasant task with such a large needle but she didn't have any other options with how deep part of the gash looked through her sliced shirt. She didn't particularly want to sit in the snow and so made her way over to the seat left on the back of one of the wagons. The men trailed after her slightly, but remained several steps away as Jaime approached alone.

She peered up at him through some tendrils of hair that had escaped at some point during one of the fights and fallen in her face. He reached out and tucked it behind her ear, seemingly without thought, before taking the needle from her much smaller hands. "I don't-"

"-Need help, I know. All the same- I know how unpleasant this feels. It needn't be done by your own hand. Let me help you, it'll go faster and you won't have to focus on it as much."

She did always hate doing stitches. Sure, she'd forced herself to learn well enough to get by, but it was still one of her least favorite tasks. That she would be stitching her own flesh was even less appealing, though she suspected she might not actually feel it all that well. Probably best to get on with it before her head got any more foggy. She nodded her head and handed the thread to him as well.

Bronn approached with his wine flask. It was a strong mix and would do well enough to sterilize the needle, even if she would have preferred rum for the task. He splashed it over the threaded needle and then handed it to her for a drink. She took a generous pull and gave it back before she pulled back her cloak and lifted her shirt, exposing her smooth stomach still smeared with watery blood.

He gestured her to lean back against the supplies, which she did with a hidden grimace. He prodded at the edges of the wound, testing it's depth and seeing how much damage had been done. The pain flared past the numbness but she didn't show any of the discomfort on her face. It was nothing compared to what was coming next, she knew.

The Sellsword held the flask out again anyway and she accepted it with a grateful nod, taking a larger gulp than before. While she was drinking, the Lannister son moved away to scoop up a large ball of untouched snow and then brought it back and set it next to her. Taking a much smaller handful, he used it to cleanse the skin around the wound with care and then poured another splash of wine across her stomach to sanitize the source of concern.

"I don't understand, why not just burn it?" Samurel asked further away.

"Too deep." Arya replied shortly, unsure just then if she'd prefer the sudden intense pain of a burn, or the slow and steady jab after jab of a wide needle piercing though raw open flesh forcing it back together with course thread and then tying it off tightly. She suppressed a shudder at what was coming. It was hardly the worst she'd endured, but it didn't make her dread it any less.

"What does 'deep' have to do with anything?" his brother asked next, honestly sounding confused.

Jaime spared a moment to send them a disgruntled glare but didn't move to answer. She could have ignored them as he did, but thought it might help distract from the discomfort. "The wound'll fester under the skin and split back open eventually- no way for it to drain past seared skin. The stitches leave enough room for liquid to pass if it does start to fester. Lets it heal better."

Jaime caught her attention from where he was crouched before her. He had the needle in hand and was clearly waiting for her go-ahead to get started. She breathed deeply through her nose and nodded, keeping each inhale and exhale perfectly rhythmic and steady.

It _was_ every bit as unpleasant as she expected it to be, but she still kept her expression even and body still. She found herself watching him work- the entirety his own attention caught on the task at hand and so he didn't catch her observations as he normally seemed to when she found herself distracted by him or something he was doing.

She wouldn't have expected his large and calloused hands to be as graceful as they were. He completed the task steadily and without waiver, the stitches placed like the beat of a drum making it as bearable for her as he could. She allowed herself a deep breath and harsh exhale after he finished tying off the end, but didn't otherwise allow herself to delay the next.

He had stood already and so she had room to push herself up and let her shirt drop for the moment. She unclasped her cloak, wanting to wash the blood out of it anyway and not wanting it to be in the way. No one spoke up until she crossed her arms and lifted her shirt up, sliding the fabric up to rest on her neck. It left the expense of her slender and lithely muscled back on display to the world.

The movement inadvertently exposed her stomach again as well, but considering she'd just had it bared while he sewed her back together in front of the same men who stood watching, she didn't see why it made any kind of difference. She kept her shirt bundled over her breasts, hiding them completely from view, so that wasn't even a concern. She still heard a slightly strangled "What are you doing?" from Jaime before she turned to show him the second wound.

He hissed through his teeth and the sight and then guided her to sit back down in a new position and lean on the supplies with her least injured side. "Why didn't you say anything? I wouldn't have told you to lean back if I knew." He asked as he began prodding her again.

"It made no matter." She dismissed.

Bronn wandered back over from wherever he'd gone and whistled as he saw what they were doing. "Fucking 'ell, girl! Here, have another drink. You need it more than I do." He thrust the wine towards her again as a chunk of snow scraped against the skin of her shoulder where the wound started its descent downwards.

"I'm fine thank you." She denied, already feeling the first couple drinks more intensely than she had expected, though she figured it was likely do to her decreased blood levels.

He sent her a disbelieving stare before looking pointedly over her. "'Fine's' not quite what I would call it." He argued. "But as you will I suppose. What do I know? I'm just a lowly sellsword."

"You're an anointed knight." Jaime corrected. "That's quite a difference."

"Aye, knights don't get paid."

"You get paid."

"But do I get paid enough?"

"You're the best paid night in the Seven bloody Kingdoms. What more could you want?"

"Your brother promised me a castle and a pretty wife."

"That was my brother's promise, not mine."

"Don't you Lannisters pay off each other's debts?"

"Not really how it works."

The two kept going back and forth until her second wound was sewn and tied off. She was so grateful of their efforts in keeping her entertained and distracted because it seemed to make the second stitch job go even faster.

She pushed herself slowly back to her feet once more, testing how much balance she had. Aside from still being a bit dizzy and chilled, she felt fine. She didn't really want to pull her bloody cloak back on just then, but it was far too cold to go without any longer.

She reached for it but was stopped before she could lift it. "Here." Jaime said, offering her his own white cloak.

She looked at him, surprised at the offer. "I couldn't, really. You're a Southerner, you'll need it more than me."

He sighed loudly through his nose. "Why do you always have to be so bloody difficult? I have layers of leather and mail on, you have a wet and torn shirt and you must have lost half your blood already. Take the fucking cloak before I tie it onto you myself." He demanded firmly and clearly annoyed at her refusal to accept help without turning the offer into an argument.

Her eyes grew slightly wider at his tone before narrowing at him in warning. Still, she didn't argue, knowing he was right once again. Her previously white shirt was still bloody enough itself to be tacky so she turned her back and stripped it completely off before grabbing the cloak Jaime held out in a shocked support, his own green gaze as frozen as the arm holding it out.

Arya dropped the sodden red fabric to the ground and the wrapped the cloak over her bare shoulders as quickly as she could, pulling it tight around herself though she truly didn't feel that cold anymore. She suspected her sudden warmth was a bad sign but hoped she was simply being paranoid. Still, there was nothing to do but wait. She didn't dare drag any more bodies around for risk of tearing her new stitching, but she was glad when the two brothers finished that task for her, even if they didn't care for the bodies as they moved them.

They needed to burn them, she knew, but it needed to wait until Tywin arrived so they could look over the culprits to see if anyone might recognize who they were or where they were from. She wondered how long until he arrived and hoped it wouldn't be much longer. She steady ache settling into her bones didn't help her impatience and she was ready to get on the road if only so they could set up camp and she could sleep.

She heard Bronn start whistling a tune from across the snow and wondered vaguely how much longer it would go on before he switched to signing. She had the feeling it was going to be a long day.

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Another three hours passed before they could hear the noise of the company approaching their location. 'Finally.' She thought to herself. She was more than ready to get back on the move, and if not for the value of the supplies they stood guard over, she might have gone on ahead anyway. She stood to await their arrival on her feet, feeling odd to still be draped in the white cloak of the Kingsguard with naught else but her breeches and boots beneath.

She'd gotten up and cleansed her soiled shirt and cloak with more snow when the tedium of sitting had gotten to be too much. She managed to get most of the blood and filth off the fabric of the cloak though the shirt was a lost cause. Jaime promised her one of his spares when the company joined them and he had access to his bad that was loaded in the wagon carrying his tent. The wet clothes had frozen over before they'd even started to dry and so she still found herself unable to put them on. A fire would have much helped the process, but they were hesitant to build one before the others arrived for fear of drawing another wave of bandits to their location.

And so they waited, until the first of the army appeared around then bend. Lord Tywin wasn't the first man in sight, but he was never one to ride very far back and so was soon in sight himself. When he saw them stopped there, he nudged his horse into a trot and approached much more quickly. "What happened here?" He demanded when he pulled up between his son and Arya where they waited for him. Jaime explained the events and reason for their delay succinctly, gaining his fathers thoughtful nod once he had finished.

The elder man dismounted and moved across to look at the line of dead men, studying them closely. Arya moved to stand beside him, waiting for him to speak. "This is an Ironborn raiding party." He finally announced. "See this sigil?" He asked, pointing at lone patch sewn into a single cloak bearing a sigil, a white scythe against a black background. "It belongs to house Harlaw of Ten Towers."

"We're quite far from the Iron Islands." Arya commented, trying to pull what she remembered of Westeros geography after so many years had passed since she'd studied the maps and house seats with her Septa to try and judge the distance in truth.

"Mmm, they likely sailed up Blazewater Bay and the Saltspear. It comes out just west of here. Common enough play for the Ironborn. It's lucky you arrived when you did. Supplies are always needed. They will be useful to the gathering alliance- much more so than they would have been to our enemies. Dare I ask why some of these men seem particularly torn apart?"

"They were set on by a pack of wolves, it was the oddest thing." She explained calmly, tone innocent of any further knowledge. Still, he shot her a piercing look before his attention to drawn away.

"Why remove their boots?" Tywin's brother questioned from behind them, taking in the scene with distaste from his mount's back.

"Good boots are always needed in the North." She responded. "As is good steel."

"You would have us steal from dead men?"

"Dead men have no possessions. Possessions are for the living. The dead have no need of boots or swords or gold." Arya replied coldly. "We do."

Kevan scowled down at her from his elevated position and then looked to his older brother to see if he would back him in shunning the idea. Tywin was obviously listening to their conversation but he didn't immediately speak up. When he finally did he said, "The girl is right. We'll take it with us. No point in losing good leather or steel. Have them men load it where they can in the wagons and prepare to move out. I don't want to linger here any longer than we have to. Burn the bodies."

The younger spun his horse around and moved to give orders, though he clearly still wasn't happy even as he relayed his brothers words. Tywin glanced over at her and then paused to take in what she was wearing, though she suspected he had noticed immediately had had simply focused on the more important matters first. "My son's cloak suits you." He quipped with a raised brow before he too turned away. "Even if it is white."

The remainder of the trip passed much the same as the rest had, and they were soon only days from Winterfell. Arya had noticed Jaime watching her even more closely than he had before and it caused something of an – uncomfortable feeling to settle in her belly- a feeling of which had been present since Tywin made his comment about his cloak.

Though she didn't think that she'd ever actually attended a Westerosi wedding, she of course she remembered the symbolic custom of bringing a woman under the man and his families protection by cloaking her in the symbol of their House. It brought her mind back to her own family and the knowledge that she was still technically betrothed to a nameless Frey. She wondered how her mother and siblings would react when she arrived with the Lannister army. She wondered what she should tell them, how much of her life she should share. A thousand stories she could tell crossed through her mind and she became even quieter the further north they travelled.

Finally came the night before they would arrive and Arya hadn't spoken since they'd broken their fast. She was sitting beside a brazier further down the camp than she normally wandered in hopes of remaining undisturbed. Her hope was moot as a familiar gait approached and a body dropped heavily beside her. A wineskin was held out to her and she accepted it with scarcely a glance.

"Whatchya doing all the way down here? Lots of unsavory sorts this far from the head. If you're not careful, you could be marked unsavory by association" Bronn commented blithely, accepting it back after she had taken a drink and using it to gesture towards one of the nearby whores who traveled with the camp.

She smiled slightly, but remained gazing blankly at the fire, mind a thousand miles away. It wasn't her family that she thought of just then, she'd decided stubbornly to shut them out of her thoughts until at least dawn the next day. No, she instead was thinking about the warmth of Braavos, of the scent of exotic spices and roasting meat in the air, the feel of sand under her bare feet as she learned to truly swim in the sea, of the gentle crash of waves against worn cobblestone and of the quiet stillness of the House of Black and White.. She allowed herself to wonder, just for the night, what her life might have been if she _hadn't_ come back home, if she'd killed the actress as she'd been bid and then returned to Jaqen for her next instruction.

"I'm just thinking." She finally replied quietly.

"Bout anything important?"

Her life as an acolyte had been difficult and challenging, often leaving her to feel like she simply existed to undertake one test or trial after the next, constantly judged and critiqued, never praised for her successes but rather often struck for her failures and imperfections. It was a grueling life, one filled with pain and hardship, of adaptation and determination, strength and skill, failure after failure and then eventual hard won success.

She needn't have worried about feelings of betrayal or upholding one alliance or another. She needn't worry about honor nor dishonor, for when one lived a life dedicated to serving death, dishonor held a different meaning than it had for her as a child, daughter to the ever honorable Ned Stark. Her perception was different, her many lessons having chiseled away at parts of her and shaped her down until she resembled someone else almost completely.

She'd grown used to discomfort long ago and had accepted it as her norm, but there she learned to use every hurt as yet another weapon in her already expansive arsenal. There, she didn't have to worry about avoiding strife nor seeking personal happiness, for every part of her had belonged to He of Many Faces. The only things she need worry about were improving herself every moment of every day, and the next name she would offer to her God. It had been a difficult life, but somehow also a simpler and more honest one.

"No, it's not anything important. Not anymore."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, humming quietly in understanding and passing the skin over again. "Tell me, '_Sir Bronn of the Blackwater_,' why are you part of this fight? Why do you serve the Lannisters?" She questioned, turning the conversation on him.

"They pay well." He responded automatically.

She turned to head to face him fully for the first time since he joined her. "Liar." She denied shrewdly. "You could make more selling your sword in Essos and be warmer besides. Why are you _here_, why with them?"

"Aye, that's true." He admitted, not answering the ladder part of her statement. "Why're you heading back then? Why not stay wherever it is you've been hiding out all this time?"

"My family is here."

"_Liar_. There's more to it than that." He taunted back, taking another swig. Still, he didn't press, instead continuing on himself. "I hated my own family. Bloody awful people they were, toasted when they died, I did." He paused and tilted his head. "Well, my brother wasn't too bad I suppose. When he was around at least. He was older than me, see, and hardly ever at home. Dunno whatever ever happened to the bastard- He split before ma was even in the ground, left me to deal with the unsavory sort they owed money to."

"That doesn't make him sound too good." She remarked, watching him.

"Meh, he didn't know any better than I until they showed up. Da had left a bottle of Run and I was three sheets to the wind already when the knocking came. I stumbled my way over to the door- I was only five, mind, hadn't ever been properly drunk before- and I stumbled my way over to the door and pulled it open, and I saw the craziest looking bitch I'd ever seen before standing in the rickety doorway, two men twice her size standing behind her."

"What happened?" Arya asked when he didn't continue.

"She asked for my da. Wasn't much pleased when I told her he croaked two days before. They forced their way in and tore up the house. Weren't any more pleased when their search turned up empty. She decided the only action to take to get her money back was to sell me. I wasn't much inclined to cooperate. Don't quite remember what happened, but the next thing I knew she was coming for me throat with her ax. I grabbed my da's sword, managed to stab her in the gut. Got free of the house and never looked back."

"That's awful." She commented, still watching him thoughtfully.

"That's life. Life's awful. Most of the time, anyway. When you manage to find a piece of it that's not awful, you should hang on to it."

Arya dropped her eyes back to the fire. The skin passed twice more before she spoke up. "I was one and ten the last time I saw most of my family. It doesn't sound like that long ago but it feels like a lifetime. The girl I was then- I haven't been her since they killed my father and called it justice. A friend of my father's found me in the crowd and took me from the city. For months I though of nothing but returning home to Winterfell, of running away and finding the Northern Army, finding my brother Robb."

"I almost made it once, did you know?" He shook his head silently. "We were less than a days ride, camping just past Castle Cerwyn. Some men from the Northern army were camped nearby. They were talking about the Starks and the war when we rode past. I heard one of them mention how much of a shame it was for the youngest Stark daughter be given to the Freys... See, it was always assumed that Sansa would wed a more distant family to form a new alliance and that I, as the second daughter, would be married to one of sons of Father's loyal bannermen- one with a Lordship, obviously. They felt cheated that I was being wasted on a family so lowly and disgusting, a family who had only gained their seat through treachery against their former liege lords and my Mother's family, House Tully."

"I was so angry when I realized what they were speaking of. I'd spent so long trying to get home, it was almost devastating to know they planned to ship me back off if I ever actually made it. I figured, if they planned to send me away anyway, why should I bother going home in the first place? I surely wouldn't agree to marry a Frey, so I decided to choose my own destination. I waited until my traveling companion was asleep and then I snuck away, stole the Northern soldiers horse and left to make may way in new direction…. Now that I'm here again, I don't really know what to think about it all. A part of me feels like turning and running away again." She finished softly, knowing she could trust the man who'd become a friend to her over the past weeks spent in close company.

"No one knows you're with us." He offered, voice just as soft. "They wouldn't know if you left."

She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes, and shook her head. "I need to go home, I can't keep putting it off. It shouldn't feel this difficult though, you know? I'm not a scared little girl anymore, so why do I feel so much trepidation at knowing I'm going to see them again tomorrow?"

"Anything that feels easy isn't worth the effort to do it. Things that really matter are always the most difficult to do."

"You're just full of insight tonight, aren't you?" A familiar voice spoke up from behind the both of them. They tilted their heads in sync to see Jaime standing behind them with a hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword, the other clutching a fresh skin. He took a seat on the other side of her and held it out in offering.

"I don't think I should have anymore." She declined, waving him off. "My head's already a bit buzzed."

"Why not?" He questioned back. "Got somewhere else to be tonight?"

"Hardly," She scoffed. "but I know better than to get too far in my cups. It's a thoughtless risk to take."

His blond head tiled and gleaming green eyes flashed to her with a hint of mischief. "Have you every actually been drunk?"

"I've been tipsy enough for my taste."

"But not drunk."

"Not _drunk_, no." She was forced to admit, feeling a rush of embarrassment despite herself. Not getting drunk wasn't anything to be ashamed of- drink made men stupid and slow, so why would she want to over indulge? Especially considering she almost always felt the need to look over her shoulder?

He held the wineskin out again and she accepted it with an eyeroll but still didn't move to drink. "You're meeting your family again on the morrow, but tonight you're under the personal protection of Lord Tywin Lannister, in the center of the biggest army in Westeros, sworn tell death to serve my family, and you have the two of us by your side. There's no safer time for you to get well and truly sloshed at least once."

She glanced around at the pockets of soldiers sitting together on all sides of them and knew it was true. She didn't know how many more peaceful and safe nights she would be granted, so why not try it at least once? She should at least know what it felt like should she ever need to know in the future. Plus, it might help get her out of her own head and depressing loop of thoughts if nothing else. She opened the skin with a mental shrug and took a deep swig, only to choke and cough on the horrid burning. "That's not wine." She managed, voice almost sounding normal.

"Rum. Thought you could use something stronger tonight."

Perhaps she could, indeed.

_~*~An hour earlier~*~_

They watched the slender woman move through the soldiers like a wisp, deeper and deeper into the camp and farther from the safety of their swords. That wasn't to say the petite Lady didn't pack a punch of her own, but war made men do crazy things and they preferred to keep her within sight for their own piece of mind if nothing else.

"You know," The sellsword began. "you should probably stop staring' at her so much if you don't want everyone to know how much you want her."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The blond dismissed without hesitation, gaze never wavering.

"I'm talking about you wantin' to fuck her." Bronn responded bluntly and rather louder than Jaime would prefer.

"I don't want to fuck her." He received he retorted quieter. Bronn scoffed in turn and Jaime corrected his previous statement. "Okay, I wouldn't say no to fucking her, but it's never going to happen so there's no point in talking about it."

"Why won't it ever happen? I see her looking at you too you know. She's better at hiding it than you are, but I've still seen it- She'd fuck you too I'd wager. Why not give it a go?"

Jaime shook his head and shot him a dark look. "She's a highborn lady- a princess, if you want to get technical, she's not the kind of woman you just '_fuck_.' She's the kind that's expected to save her maidenhead for marriage like it's some grand gift for her highborn husband on their wedding night."

"I don't think she's that kind of lady." Bronn stated doubtfully.

"Ladies don't really get a choice in the matter."

"I'd like to see you tell that to her."

Jaime shook his head again and turned away. "I'm getting something to drink. Watch her, won't you?"

"Aye, I'll watch her." He promised and watched him go.

When Jaime returned he found the two sitting side by side, carrying on what seemed to be a serious conversation- odd for the two of them, who more often fell into insults, banter, threats- or a combination of the three- when left alone. So distracted were they that he was able to approach them both without being noticed- a feat that hardly ever happened with either of them. Not wanting their last night free of dealing with the Northmen, who weren't at all fond of himself or his family, to be marred by seriousness, he convinced interrupted their talk and convinced her to get sloshed with the two of them for a change.

It might not have been the best idea considering the conversation that led up to it, but as long as he controlled himself it would make no matter. He'd been forced to control himself his entire life- this should be no exceptional challenge. And he truly hadn't spoken false- they were likely sitting in the safest place in Westeros just then, surrounded by so many loyal soldiers and approaching a truce rather than expecting a battle. There _was_ no better time, and so they began passing the much stronger flagon of alcohol between the three of them.

The atmosphere lightened the more they drank, and they spent what felt like hours talking and trading stories. "-… an' the poor bastard was hoping around with an arrow sticking out of his arse yelling 'not the daisies, not the daisies!" Arya tipped her head back with the force of her bright laughter, feeling tears of mirth pool in the corner of her eyes at the story she'd just heard. It took her several long moments to calm herself and she had no idea how flushed her cheeks were nor how bright her eyes glowed in the firelight.

It seemed to grow late all too soon and then men surrounding them began to disappear into their tents to take their rest. The rum was gone and the fire burning low, so they decided perhaps it was time for them to turn in as well. When she stood, Arya found she had a hard time walking in a straight line, no matter much she thought she had her muscles under control. Jaime graciously accompanied her back to her tent- though in truth he wouldn't have risked letting her go on her own with how drunk she clearly was, even had she tried to turn him away.

They were talking quietly when they arrived and so it felt natural for him to duck through the door behind her. One of the servants had lit the smaller brazier and so it was pleasantly warm inside. Arya immediate stripped her cloak off and lifted a leg to wrestle off her first boot. Her balance was more off than it'd ever been- even when she'd been blind- and so she ended up having to plop down to manage the task.

Seeing that she was still having difficulty, Jaime dropped to his knees before her to assist, much more practiced at maneuvering under the weight of the alcohol. She wiggled her toes once her feet were finally free and then lay backwards across the bedroll his her arms stretched up above her head. "Thank you." She slurred slightly as her eyes closed, though she remained awake and drifting slightly in the buzz.

Her eyes opened and she glanced over when she felt his much larger bulk lay down beside her, though his own hands were folded behind his head and his gaze rested on the fabric above them. "What will you do when you see your family?" He asked her, tone curious, in a low voice some time later.

"I don't really know yet." She admitted in scantly more than a whisper. "This should be a happy occasion, I should be ecstatic to be going home, shouldn't I? Despite everything?"

He hummed lightly and took a moment to think before he responded, hearing a true note of unease in her tone. "I think you're a different girl that the one who left gods, was it really almost eight years ago?" She nodded beside him but didn't speak up and so he continued. "Mothers always seem to consider their children to _be_ children, no matter how old they grow. You'll simply have to show them the woman you've become. If they're smart, they'll be proud of you. I don't pretend to know all you've endured, but not many could have survived the bits I do know about."

"Because I'm a woman?"

"No, you being a woman has no bearing on my opinion of you. I'd be just as impressed by you if you were a man- … Though you wouldn't be nearly as nice to watch if you were."

She elbowed him for the last remark though she felt a buzz of warmth at his words. "Are we friends Jaime?" She asked in contemplation.

"I like to think so, though I can't speak for your opinion on the matter."

"It's been a long time since I've had any friends, I'm not sure I remember how to do it."

"You're doing a pretty good job so far. There aren't really any rules, you know."

She smiled slightly and turned onto her side to face him, propping her head up on one hand and gazing at him, needing to see his face for the next. "I've been in Braavos." She admitted in the quietest whisper yet. His head turned to look at her in turn and she could see the surprise in his green eyes. "Training at the House of Black and White to be a Faceless Man. I left for home when I heard of the Great Gathering of armies."

"Well…" he began clearly at a loss for words, though he didn't seem disgusted with her as she thought he might- for the Faceless Men had a certain reputation throughout all the realms. "That explains quite a lot, actually." He settled on, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm… _worried_ of how my family will react if they find out, once they _do_ see the woman I've become. I think my father would have understood to a point, but my mother and sister won't. I'm not sure about my brothers, really. Eight years ago I think they would have supported me, but they'll be men grown themselves and will likely have the thoughts of men grown on the place of a woman."

"You don't _have_ to tell them you know."

"But you knew there was something off, even before I told you. You don't think they'll be able to sense it, too?"

"I wouldn't say 'off,' necessarily." A note of teasing taking residence in his voice before he sobered again. It took a moment for him to continue, trying as he could to organize his thoughts. "You've heard the story of the Mad King, haven't you?" She nodded at him and he encouraged her to lay back down, not wanting her perceptive eyes to observe him so closely as he shared this piece of himself with her. "My father told me he spoke to you about it a little already? Of how I came to be a Kingsguard?" She nodded slightly still gazing up at the side of his face as she could from where she'd lain her head back down to rest beside his.

"You've heard of wildfire? I'm sure you have considering where you studied?" She nodded again and he continued. "The Mad King loved wildfire. He loved to watch people burn, watch the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones.. He burned everyone- he burned lords he didn't like, he burned hands who disobeyed him, he burned _everyone_ who was against him…. Before long, half the country was against him."

"He saw traitors everywhere, so he had his pyromancer place catches of wildfire all over the city. Beneath the Sept of Balor, in the slums of Flea Bottom, under the houses and staples and taverns… Even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident, but, my father arrived first with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to protect the city against the Rebels."

"You know my Father better than that- he's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King that, I urged him to surrender peacefully but he didn't listen to me. He didn't listen to Varys, who tried to warn him, but he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that prayer-sunken cunt. 'You can trust the Lannisters,' he said. 'The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown'. So, he opened the gates… and my father sacked the city."

"Once again I came to the king, _begging him_ to surrender. He told me to.. bring him my fathers head.. And then he turned to his Pyromancer. 'Burn them all,' he said. 'Burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds..' Tell me Arya, if the king you were sworn to serve and obey to your last breath told you to kill your own father and then stand by why thousands of men, women, and children were burned alive, would you have done it?"

He shook his head slightly and she could see the lines in his forehead as he remembered the scene he was describing to her, dying fire casting eerie shadows to dance across his weathered face. "I.. killed the Pyromancer first, and then when my King turned to flee I.. I drove my sword into his back. 'Burn them all,' he kept saying. 'Burn them all.' I don't think he expected to die… I think he wanted to burn the rest of us and rise again reborn as a dragon turning his enemy's to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen. That's where your father found me."

"No one seems to remember how despised the Mad King was by the end, the horrible way he slaughtered his enemy's, the awful things he did for his own entertainment.. I still see them sometimes when I close my eyes at night. It doesn't matter what he did, it doesn't matter what he planned to do, I was a Kingsguard sworn to protect him with my own life if need be and instead I took his with a sword through his back."

"Kingslayer, they call me now. Oathbreaker, coward, a man without honor. It's been seventeen years, and the only thing the people seem to remember of the Mad King is my part in his death… All except my Father. Say what you will about the man, but he loves family. He took me back to Casterly Rock despite those calling for me to answer for my treason and he betrothed Cersei to Robert to strengthen the Baratheon/Lannister alliance even further. He saved me and then he guaranteed me my freedom and my life. I should have hung for what I did. He called me a fool for swearing myself to another fucking king, but I couldn't let my sister go live in that awful place without me there to protect her."

He shook his head again and continued in a forced lighter voice. "The point is, family is there for you when no one else in the world is. Your mother's a Tully: 'Family, Duty, Honor' in that order, yes? I think you owe it to them and to _yourself_ to at least try and reform those bonds. If you find you can't than you can't, but at least you won't spend the rest of your life wondering what might have happened if you tried."

He trailed off and seemed to be done speaking, so Arya moved slightly closer. She found herself at a loss of words, unsure of the correct thing to say after the raw emotion he'd shared, but needing to say something through her tight throat. "Honor isn't always an easy thing; it can be more than a word spoken or an oath given for some. It's rawer than that, more visceral and authentic. I don't think what you did makes you a coward, I think you choosing to break a single oath to a madman to save thousands of lives makes you one of the bravest and most truly honorable men I've ever met."

"You actually mean that, don't you?" He questioned in disbelief, looking over at her.

"I do."

He smiled at her and shook his head, turning on his side to mirror her and then brushed back a strand of hair to tuck behind her ear. He stroked his hand over her hair and then cupped the back of her head to hold her while he pressed lingering lips to her forehead in expression of his thanks, however much he'd rather have pressed his against her own lips instead. He pulled away a long moment later and moved again to his back where he closed his eyes. Alcohol still infusing their veins, they both eventually drifted off to sleep atop the Knight's bedroll, tucked close together.

_To be continued _

Notes:

This chapter had all the feels! I know I said they would make it to Winterfell, but this felt like a natural stopping point. I will try to have one more chapter out before the next episode releases tomorrow but I'm not sure I'll make it. After that the pace will likely slow to one or possibly two per week to match the release of the season.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

The alcohol kept them both in a deep stupor through the rest of the night and into the morning. A throat clearing woke them both up and Arya was surprised to find her head resting comfortably on Jaime's shoulder, body tucked up against his side and sharing in his warmth as they slept. She pulled herself away, glancing around to see who had found them. She was relieved to see Bronn smirking down at them rather than Tywin or someone who would report back to him. She had the feeling he wouldn't let this little mishap go should he know about it.

"Time to rise and shine, cuddle bugs. The camp's breaking down as we speak and daddy came knocking looking for you already."

The mention of Tywin was enough was enough to rouse Jaime as well, though he looked bleary eyed and almost vulnerable in a way she had never gotten to see him before. They quickly rose and began moving through the familiar motions of packing up the camp, despite the headache's they all bore that morn. Tywin found them when they were getting ready to mount, looking them both over suspiciously and then pulling his son aside for a private word.

Jaime was frowning lightly when he reappeared but she didn't ask and he didn't offer explanation. They set off in somber silence, the cheer from the night before faded with the coals and everyone well aware that they would arrive that their destination just after high noon. The day passed both quickly and seemed to take an age, but they were soon riding upon Winter Town and the churning in her stomach was worse than ever.

She started to drop back further in the company to fade into the background but Tywin froze her with a frigid glance as he nudged his mount beside hers. When he spoke, his tone was stern but also encouraging, and pitched to not carry. "You are of Stark blood and we approach your home. The only person here capable of making you feel cowed is you, yourself. How you present yourself when you meet them again for the first time will stick in their minds for the rest of their days, and of yours. It is up to you, here and now, to decide how that presentation will occur- what impression will you leave them with? Will it be of you slinking around like shade and hiding with the common foot soldiers, or will you be sitting tall and proud as you meet them head on, a woman in your own right, tested and experienced, and more than capable of standing before them on your own feet?"

She swallowed hard and then nodded, squaring her shoulders and remaining at the front where she'd ridden since joining their company. Jaime squared up on his father's other side and they road three abreast through Winter Town and to Winterfell proper. A few others of their party broke away with them to form a second line just behind theirs, while the rest of the army formed ranks in an large stretch of open field. A messenger had already ridden ahead to give word of their coming, and so a party waited to welcome them as they passed through the gates.

Her breath caught in her throat as she took in her family awaiting in a line across the courtyard before the keep. A man grown with Robbs features stood in the center, her aged Mother standing to one side of him while an unfamiliar woman stood on his other side, young child hiding behind her skirts and another on her hip. Sansa stood beside her mother, red hair gleaming under the dull winter sun, tall and perfect and more beautiful than ever.

Bran was seated in a chair beside her, thick fur over his legs to fight the chill. He was staring at her already, she realized, despite the fact that he couldn't yet see her face. Her hood had been up since it had begun snowing quite heavily a couple of hours past, and so no one else seemed to take any notice of her immediately.

A boy who looked like a miniature, more wild version, of Robb rounded off the line, a plain faced woman with dark uncombed hair standing at his shoulder. The direwolves lay scattered around them on the ground unbothered by the newcomers.

They all moved to dismount, leaving them on equal footing. "Lord Tywin." Robb greeted, sounding forced. "We welcome you and your companions to Winterfell. Thank you for answering our call. We have quarters prepared for you and your council and bid you join us for supper so we might welcome you more formally to our halls."

"I thank you for your welcome, but I will continue to reside with my men. My council may decide themselves as to they will where they sleep. We thank you for your invitation to dine with you and will happily accept."

Robb nodded, looking unsurprised and perhaps even a little relieved that Tywin wouldn't be sleeping within the keep. The required formalities continued. "Allow me to introduce my family. You know my mother, Lady Catelyn of House Tully. This is my Lady wife, Talisa of House Maegyr, my heir, Prince Eddard, second of his name, and my daughter Aenela. You've met my sister, Lady Sansa, already, I believe? And these are my younger brothers, Bran and Rickon." The courtesies were observed as they went down the line and then it was Tywin's turn.

"Please, allow me to introduce you to my Grandson by Law and Member for Dorne of the Kings Small Council, Prince Trystane Martell. Most of you have already met my son and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister-" and didn't it still burn a little to not be able to name him his heir in turn. "-my brother and the Master of Coin, Kevan Lannister, Lord Mace Tyrell, Master of Ships, and.." He allowed his voice to trail off for a moment, eyeing her pointedly. "I don't believe my last companion needs introduction, actually."

His odd statement led to all eyes resting curiously upon her and she cursed him slightly in her head even though she knew she hadn't left him with many options, shrouded as she still was in her black cloak and hood. She took a steadying breath and stepped forward, lowering her hood in the same moment so as not to give herself any more time to delay the inevitable, her cloak falling open with the upward motion of her arms and leaving her petite frame visible, and with it the obvious curves of her womanhood.

She knew she must look a sight after two months of travel in comparison to their own freshly scrubbed skin and clean clothes. She knew her hair was a mess and that her cheeks were likely flushed from the cold. Her lips were chapped and the black plain spun shirt she borrowed from Jaime who typically wore them beneath his armor hung too large on her frame and made her look disheveled despite its high quality. That she wore men's pants and scuffed traveling boots with it didn't help the situation in the least.

Her features had matured even if she hadn't gained much in height, her body had become strong and toned whereas before it was slender simply because of the skinniness of youth. Still, her large grey eyes were the same, as was her nose and the shape of her mouth. Her cheekbones had sharpened but still cut the same line across her face and the bend of her jaw remained unchanged despite the loss of its remaining youthful softness. She wondered in the moment if they would even recognize her. She wasn't sure how she might respond if asked to explain her presence before the King in the North

Luckily, if a bit surprisingly, her sister spoke up before their mother. "Arya?" The redhead gasped, pale hand rising to cover her mouth in her shock, clear blue eyes filling immediately with tears as all polite stoicism fell away from her face. She broke away from the neat line of her family and hurried across the ground to reach her, wrapping her immediately in her long and graceful arms. Arya felt even smaller and more out of place as she noticed her sisters beautiful blue dress become smudged from her own dirty clothing but there was naught she could do about it beyond forcing herself free, and she wasn't at that point quite yet.

She realized she ought to do something in return as she heard her sister sob that she thought her surely dead. Her own arms rose more slowly to return the embrace, though any time she thought of saying something in turn she found the words sticking in her throat. "I, I'm glad to see you as well, sister." She finally managed. She managed to look past her taller sister as she spoke and locked eyes with Lannister green. Jaime sent her a half encouraging, half sympathetic smile

At the sound of her voice she heard her mother breakdown where she stood beside Robb, leaning most of her weight on the strong arm of her eldest son. "Arya?" The aging woman whispered weakly, stumbling forward and drawing her attention back. Sansa pulled away, reaching up to dab at her eyes as she stepped back to allow her mother access. "Oh, my sweet child!" She practically moaned and she draped herself in a hug around her youngest daughter. "I thought you lost to us, I thought I'd never see you again."

Had she not been so fit, Arya might have grunted under the weight of her mother. Instead she was able to shift her stance to provide her more stability and then offer her an embrace back. Catelyn dissolved into sobs, though she could still be heard mummering something every few seconds. Arya began to feel more and more uncomfortable the longer the scene went on, a fact of which was clear to those in attendance who knew her best and was quickly becoming clear to those who no longer did.

Thankfully, Sansa began prying Catelyn free just before Arya thought she might have to do so herself, if only to breath freely for a moment. Her good-sister hurried forward to help and they supported the near hysteric woman between the two of them. Robb approached her next, smiling down at her and drawing her into a strong hug of his own. Luckily his didn't last nearly as long and she was released after just a few moments, though he paused to press a thankful kiss to her forehead, whispering 'Thank the gods for your return' as he did so.

She turned her head to see Bran smiling at her softly, even if his eyes didn't seem quite all there. She glanced around briefly before approaching his chair-bound form, finding herself actually wanting to give an embrace of her own for the first time. The last time she'd seen her little brother, he'd been still and unconscious in a featherbed much to large for his small, broken body, and they'd been unsure if he'd ever wake again even as they rode from the city.

She leant over to wrap him in her arms and felt one of his rise to embrace her in return. "Sister, I am pleased you finally decided to return home." He murmured in her ear. She pulled away and glanced down at his too-knowing tone but her attention was soon drawn to his side and too the wild looking boy watching her suspiciously. Rickon was only six when she left, would he even remember her- she wondered to herself as she stepped closer, hyperaware of the silence of the courtyard behind her save for her mother's continued sniffles.

Despite his young age, the boy already stood more than a head taller than her and he seemed to feel even more out of place than she did, judging by his discreet fidgeting and uncomfortable expression. He mumbled something she couldn't quite grasp and drew Bran's eyes to him in slight reproach. Rickon dropped his eyes for a moment before glancing back at her stubbornly. "Sister." He finally said quietly in greeting, voice curing around an odd accent she couldn't quite place.

"Brother." She replied, hearing the soft Braavosi burr she'd acquired from so long primarily speaking the language come through in her own tone. She wasn't quite sure why she allowed it, fully capable of controlling her voice down to the smallest detail, but perhaps she did so to show him that he wasn't the only one in their family out of place in Winterfell- that she was, too. She'd heard that Theon had sacked Winterfell in the name of the Greyjoy's whilst Catelyn was with Robb and the Northern Army, but she hadn't heard what had happened to her two youngest brothers who had remained in the keep when it happened.

She didn't try and hug him, sensing he might not be open to the gesture. Instead she held out a hand, smiling slightly when he grasped it in one of his own and squeezed before dropping it again. She glanced to the woman standing almost protectively behind him, watching her guardedly. "Hello," She greeted the woman who had gone unmentioned, despite her physical closeness to her family. The woman glanced down at Rickon and then across at Lady Catelyn before looking back at the one addressing her.

"M'lady." She murmured, voice raspy.

"Please, my name is Arya. What's yours?"

"I'm called Osha, M'lady." She replied.

"Where are you from, Osha?" she questioned, tilting her head curiously.

The woman glanced up at her from her lowered gaze, an almost challenging gleam in her eye at the question. It made Arya even more curious before she finally responded. "You won't have heard of it."

"How do you know?"

"Do you know the names of many villages beyond the wall, M'lady?"

Arya's smile grew larger and truer than it was before. "I wish I did." She responded, practically glowing at the realization that she was speaking with an actual _wildling_. It had been a dream of hers as a girl, after all. "I've always wanted to go beyond the wall. It's probably not the best idea right now, obviously, but perhaps once the fighting is done mayhap you can teach me of your villages so I might visit."

"Mayhaps." The woman allowed, though her own face had softened at the honesty in Arya's tone.

"Well," Robb interrupted, drawing her attention back to the rest. "That has been a rather unexpected turn of events, though perhaps the best we've had in years. If you'll excuse us, I believe our family needs some time. Please, if any of you would like to take our offer of a room inside our walls, let my Lady Wife know and she will see you to them. I do hope you see you all at supper."

Her mother and sister somehow appeared beside her and began leading her away despite her reluctance. At least her mother had gathered herself enough to be smiling at her with damp eyes, sobs seeming contained. She glanced back over her shoulder before she was tugged through a doorway to see the Lannister father and son watching her go with matching conflicted expressions.

She was marched inside to her mother's solar and pressed down until she sat on a sofa and surrounded by her family. Her mother sat just beside her, clasping her hands and flittering in her seat. "Arya…" She began, still sounding dazed. Arya couldn't help but notice the grey beginning to streak her copper hair and the deep-set wrinkles that marred her once ageless face. "My sweet wild-child. I can't believe all my children have come home, praise the Old Gods and New. Where have you been? We though you perished years ago." Desperation to know tinged her mothers voice and she felt a jolt of guilt pierce her.

Part of her wanted to tell her tale true, but she knew she couldn't tell everything and what she could tell would simply lead to more questions. "I've.. I've been all over, Mother. Most of it passed unremarkably, to tell you the truth. Nothing very exciting at all."

"Why didn't you come home?" Her mother pleaded, not sounding at all appeased. "Why didn't you come back to us?"

"I.. I couldn't.. I had things I had to do first, but I came as soon as I could."

"What things? Nothing is more important than our family. You should have been here with us!"

Arya shook her head, unsure what to say. She pulled free and rose from her mother's side, turning to Robb and his wife who had just joined them, where they were standing together nearby. "Robb said you are a Maegyr?" She asked lightly, turning the subject to on she was not the center of. The woman nodded gracefully, darting a glance at Arya's brother as she did so. "I met a Maegyr once- a Sulvan Maegyr, but it was a quite long way from here. I wonder if there might be a relation?"

Sulvan Maegyr was one of the three Triarchs of Volantes. The elected rulers were considered so honored that it was said their feet wouldn't touch the ground a single time during their rule. They rode elephants or were carried in a litter through the city if they had a need to leave their palace. Though only one with knowledge of the workings of the Free City of Volantes would likely recognize the name, she was still surprised that none in her family seemed to. She thought war, if nothing else, might make them more aware of the world outside of Westeros and Winterfell specifically.

Her new Good Sister nodded, watching her cautiously. "Sulvan is my Grandfather, though his company is hard to come by. I would wonder how you found yourself in it?"

In truth, it hadn't been her who'd found herself in his company but Jaqen. A man in a position of such power in a city of such wealth- was it any wonder he had an almost, amicable, relationship with the House of Black and White? She'd been tasked with shadowing him for a time and learning everything she could from her observations. Volantis was one of the more… interesting… cities she discovered in their year of travel. "The winds blow all directions." She replied vaguely rather than giving any sort of answer.

Sansa spoke before the resulting silence could drag. "We'll have to have a feast to welcome you home! Things aren't so tight that we can celebrate your return. We'll have to give the hunters until tomorrow, at least, so we won't be able to host it tonight. But that's alright- it'll give the seamstress time to sew you a gown that will fit you properly! I don't imagine any of your girlhood clothes will still fit you, even if you haven't grown much in height." She continued. Arya could hear the forced note in her voice as she prattled on, and she appreciated the effort her sister went to in order to avoid further awkwardness than what was already felt naturally so nodded along appropriately as her mother joined in and the two of them discussed her wardrobe.

Appreciation or no, she could only take talk of colors and fabric for a limited time before she snapped and so she turned back to her present older brother. "I heard Jon was here, but I haven't seen nor heard of him since I arrived. Where is he?" She asked.

Robb darted a quick look at their mother before answering. "Ahh, he stays with his men most days. Come, I'll show you to his camp." She could see her mother scowl at the mention of her half-brother even without turning her head and felt her heart sink at knowing he was still likely facing her ire for simply daring to exist in her home.

She nodded her thanks and hurried across the room, not meeting their eyes despite Tywin's words echoing in her ears. What sort of impression might she be leaving them with, indeed? Never before had she felt so out of place and, as much as she tried to pretend otherwise, she feared the others might have picked up on her obvious discomfort.

She followed Robb back through the keep and out into the open. She could see the familiar outline of the Lannister camp taking shape in the distance, but they turned the other way. They soon came upon rows and rows of tents made of naught but rough prepared white and grey animal hide and fewer of the plain black fabrics the Night's watch was known for. They approached a tent that looked like all the others surrounding it and Robb knocked his knuckles against one of the wooden supports before he ducked inside.

Arya followed a bit more hesitantly and looked across the glare of a warm fire once she was inside. Jon- her favorite person in the world- stood across from her, staring in shock. "Arya?" He mouthed almost silently, recognizing her immediately, before he crossed the canvas in a few large strides. He swept her fully into his arms in a bone crushing hug until her feet her dangling clear of the ground and then spun her around in one, two, three circles. She embraced him just as tightly, clenching her eyes closed as his familiar curly hair tickled her face.

"I missed you too, brother." She replied, pulling back as he set her on her feet.

"I wasn't sure I'd get to see you again. Everyone was convinced of your death, it was hard to remain positive at times." His warm, sword calloused hand cupped the side of her face and his warm chapped lips pressed a heartfelt kiss against her forehead. "Gods, I can't believe you're here!"

"I think I might be too stubborn to give in to the Gods."

"Aye, I think you might be right!" He agreed with a choked sounding laugh. "May that trait remain true here as well."

"What are they like?" She asked. "The dead men? I've heard stories, but not from anyone whose actually fought them."

He peered down at her curiously but didn't dismiss her outright like many would. "And why would you need to know that?" He asked instead. She saw Robb shift uncomfortably to the side of the tent, but he didn't move to interrupt.

"I know a thing or two about fighting now." She answered softly. "And it's always better to know your enemy than to not."

"Well I can't argue with that logic. They're formidable, to be honest. They feel no fear, they never tire, and they have numbers that make it seem almost pointless to cut one down.."

"How do you kill them?"

"Valerian steel works. Dragon glass. Fire. Killing a white walker also kills all the wights it's raised, but they're not east to get to."

"Those are the only ways?"

"They only way's we've found so far."

She nodded, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry I stayed away so long."

He smiled at her again, fondly. "I'm just glad you're okay. You are okay, aren't you?"

"'Course I'm okay."

"How'd you get here, anyway? Did you make the journey on your own? Where have you been?"

"I arrived with the Lannister Army." She answered honestly, watching for his reaction. "I knew Lord Tywin a long time ago, and when I met his troop at the Crossroad, he offered me to travel with them. Safety in numbers, and all that."

"The Lannisters?" He sounded dismayed but hid it for the most part. "Did they treat you well?"

"Of course they did. Lord Tywin has always treated me well, as has Sir Jaime." She told him honestly. "I very likely owe Lord Tywin my life."

He nodded slowly but didn't argue. "Where were you before you met him at the Crossroad?" He tentatively pushed. "If you don't mind my asking."

She looked up at his features, so like her own, and the words came easy where before she couldn't manage to bring them to life. "I was in Essos- In the Free city of Braavos, where I went to meet another man who saved my life once, and who offered to teach me his ways."

"His ways?" Jon asked, sounded suspicious again at her vague story.

She felt the urge to bite her lip but didn't allow herself the tell. "As a Faceless man." She whispered the words for the second time in a day.

"A Faceless man?" He questioned, tone shifted. "As in, the order of priests who _warship Death_ as the one true God… The _Assassins Guild_?"

"One in the same." She whispered, wondering what she would do if he reacted badly. Jaime had taken it well enough, but he was plenty enough fucked up in his own ways that he was more on her level. Jon and Robb were honorable men, if they were still anything like their Father- and she was sure they were, being now a King and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch…

"Gods, Arya. You never choose to do anything easy, do you?"

"Nothing easy is even worth doing." She repeated back the words that had been spoken to her so recently. Her brothers exchanged a long look and Robb moved closer to join them.

"Arya," Her eldest brother began cautiously. "If you joined the order of the Faceless Men, how are you here now? I thought their service to Death sworn for life?"

She dropped her eyes down to her hands, small scars dotting their surface from hours upon hours of weapons play. "I left before I swore myself to the House- When I heard of the Great Gathering, actually. I knew I couldn't stay away any longer so I boarded the next ship sailing for Westeros and I came home."

"You just left?" Jon questioned next, sounding concerned. "Arya, most places like that don't care for their members just leaving. Do we need worry about them coming after you?"

Her shoulders tensed into a shrug. "Ask me again if we live longer enough for it to matter."

"You might have been safer in Essos." Jon told her, tone regretful.

"Valar Morghulis." She told him firmly. "All men must die. I am not afraid to meet Him if my time comes to a close." She translated at their looks of confusion. "Though, speaking of Essos- where is the Dragon Queen? I heard she sailed for Westeros with her army months ago. I thought I would meet her here."

"Part of her army is out scouting the wilds. The Queen took her dragons South to warm them for a few days. Seems they don't care much for a Northern Winter. She'll be back any time."

"I see. I should like to meet her, I think."

"You'd like to meet her, or you'd like to meet her dragons?" Robb teased knowingly and she felt, just for a moment, as though no time had passed at all.

"Can I only have one or the other?" She returned playfully before sobering once more. "I am glad to see you both so well. Could you…"

"Could we what, little sister?"

"Could you not tell the others what I told you? I'm not ready for everyone to know where I've been just yet."

"Your secret's safe with us." Jon swore.

Eventually Sansa came and fetched her from Jon's tent, bringing her back into the keep and to her childhood room where a hot bath had been prepared for her. Her room was just the same as she had left it, and it made her feel like an intruder to the girl she'd once been. It seemed her sister had no plan of leaving immediately and so she began stripping her filthy clothes off despite her continued presence, having lost any shyness long ago.

She stepped into the steaming tub with a blissful sigh, feeling the lingering ache of cold leave her for the first time since somewhere midway across the Narrow Sea. She wasn't one to spend ages soaking in the tub and so she soon began to scrub her skin clean. The water was brown before she was done, but her skin felt fresher and her scalp no longer prickled, so she was grateful all the same.

Sansa handed her a drying cloth once she was done and she wrapped the bulk of it around her petite frame while using the end to wring out her lengthening hair. Her sister sat her down on a stood and began running her slender fingers through the wet and tangled locks. Arya allowed the motion reluctantly, if only because she wasn't sure how to put distance between them just then, not when her sister seemed so honestly happy to see her.

The taller brought a second cloth to her hair once the worst of the knots had been released and began toweling it free of moisture herself, less roughly than Arya had been doing. Once as dry as she could get it, she gathered the small vial of oil she used on her own hair and spread some between her palms to work into the thick dark locks. More manageable than it had been, Sansa grabbed the comb on the mostly empty vanity and began to work the smaller knots out, brushing it until it fell smoothly across her bare shoulders.

Sansa gathered up the tops of her hair, knowing her little sister didn't care for it falling into her eyes, and weaved it into a braid that wrapped around the back of her head in a half-crown pattern. The rest of her hair fell loose, and the hidden wave in it emerged as it dried. Arya watched her work silently, thinking on all the wasted time women spent pointlessly trying to make themselves look more beautiful. She held her tongue as her sister began to groom and sculpt her eyebrows into something sleeker with a touch more of the oil on a course brush.

She drew the line at powder being applied to her face and Sansa bowed her head in acceptance with more grace than Arya might have expected. A knock came on the door only moments later and her sister hurried across the room to allow their mother entrance, a dress clutched in her hands. "Talisa sent one of her gowns for you to wear for supper tonight. We'll have the seamstress here in the morning, of course, but this'll do for now.

Arya frowned immediately but forced her face to clear just after. She'd known this would be one of the things required of her and she had already decided she would choose her battles more carefully than over what she wore to supper. She was pleased to see it a slate grey, lines of lighter shades cutting through the fabric and lending it an almost sleek sheen despite its simple monochromatic design.

The neckline dipped into a slight point but was fairly modest all things considered and showed little beside her sharp collarbone and the barest hint of the swell of her breast once she pulled it on. It was still too long, but she was wasn't entirely displeased with the choice when it was all said and done.. Soft slippers were handed to her to cover her feet and made scarcely a noise when she walked. It seemed she'd only just finished dressing when her Mother and Sister were leading her to the door, insisting they would be late if they didn't leave immediately. She didn't even get the chance to arm herself and she hoped it didn't come back to haunt her.

They entered the dining hall a few minutes later and Arya was surprised at how many people were crammed at the tables- more than she'd ever seen in the room at one time before. She felt her spine stiffen as all eyes in the room seemed to turn towards them, several of the men breaking into applause at the sight of her returned. She was stopped every couple of steps and hadn't yet been able to make it to her seat when a hush fell over the room. She glanced across to see the Lannister party that had accompanied her earlier in the day enter the hall, faces as stoic and composed as they always were in the company of others.

She felt an almost desperate urge to join them, and why shouldn't she? It wasn't a secret that she arrived with them, why shouldn't she check how they were settling in? Not giving herself time to debate, she excused herself from the Lord offering her well wishes and then moved out of her Mother's reach before the woman could grasp her or pull her back.

It was technically Talisa's place to welcome their guests as the Lady of the Keep, but Arya hoped her good sister wouldn't mind her overstepping considering the uniqueness of the situation. "My Lords, Your Grace," She greeted formally. "Please, allow me to show you to your seats." She led them across the room from a position within their ranks, taking advantage on the knowledge that fewer present would dare call her into conversation whilst she stood beside the gruff old Lion himself.

She was able to make it to the head table with them as a buffer, and she gestured them to take their seats as the table of high honor sat just beside the Stark Family's own. She started to turn towards the open seat her family had clearly left for her, but she was called back before she could walk away. "If you're able, come visit our camp later. I have a gift for you." Tywin told her quietly.

She eyed him curiously but nodded without questioning him just then. "I'll make my way there." She promised. Her eyes darted quickly to Jaime, who winked at her once their eyes locked. She smiled slightly despite herself and then forced herself to turn away and take her place without further delay, knowing she was still being observed. She had the feeling it was going to be a long meal, indeed.

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

They were half-way through eating when the large wooden door swung open and the man she least desired to see entered as though he had some power within the halls, glancing around dismissively and then beginning to stride towards the head table. She tilted her head slightly, glancing around the room. She hadn't given away her knowledge of her betrothal and she was almost morbidly curious how the scene would play out. Would they try and cover it to tell her under more controlled circumstances? Would they admit their arrangement outright? Would they pull her aside? Would it be public?

Her mother rose from her seat, seeming just a bit more pale in the candlelight. "Lord Walder." The woman greeted the latecomer. "You do not normally join us for meals. I did not expect to see you this night."

"As I hadn't expected to be here." He responded gruffly, not sparing her a glance as he zeroed in on Arya. "But I heard some news I wanted to confirm with my own eyes."

"Ah, yes, joyous news indeed." Catelyn replied. "_Would you_ care to sup with us? We can find a seat for you, I'm sure." She offered then, clearly trying to get him to turn his attention from her daughter to herself.

"No." He replied gruffly. "It appears I have some things to put into motion. I think I've waited patiently enough, there's no further reason to delay and the wedding will happen within the fortnight.., Unless you disagree?" He challenged, sneer in his voice.

Lady Catelyn paled a shade further, hands clasped so tightly Arya could see the whites of her knuckles. "My daughter only just returned home a scant number of hours ago. We're holding a celebration to welcome her home tomorrow. We will discuss _this_ afterwards." She told him sternly. Arya could still hear the waver in her voice.

He sneered again, though Arya thought it might've supposed to have been a smile from the flash of yellowed teeth he showed. "We can discuss it on the morrow if that is your wish, but it won't delay my decision." He warned.

"I wish you a pleasant Eve, Lord Walder." Her mother announced in clear dismissal and sat back in her chair, reclaiming her utensils calmly.

Arya watched curiously as the greasy old man left the hall and then turned back to her mother, who was attempting to go on as though nothing odd had happened. Whispers had picked up throughout the room but it remained much more quiet than it had been before the interruption. She felt hundreds of eyes watching her and she turned her words over in her head before she spoke them. "Is someone getting married?" She queried innocently, widening her eyes slightly for added effect.

Looks were exchanged amongst her family and she watched them all in interest. No one answered immediately and a further hush fell over the room. She pressed further, seeing their discomfort grow as the conversation reluctantly continued. resisting the urge to smirk as she took a bit of petty revenge for the situation as a whole. "You know, I was actually just thinking that I couldn't remember ever attending a wedding before. What fortuitous timing!" she exclaimed, allowing her lips to curl in a joyful smile.

"Now isn't the appropriate time to discuss this, Arya." Her mother shushed her quietly. "We can talk more after the meal."

"Is it anyone I might know? Perhaps they wouldn't mind my attending for curiosity's sake." She continued, ignoring the attempted brush off.

"We will discuss this after dinner." Catelyn told her firmly, and then pointedly turned the subject away by speaking with Robb about something else entirely and thus removing the option for her to press on. Her brother shot a brief uncomfortable look in her direction but went along with the change all the same. That was okay, she was patient enough to wait. She acted as expected, following all of her courtesies and making small talk with her siblings. In all honestly, it might have been the longest and most uncomfortable meal of her life, but she'd learned to hide her emotions very well indeed.

It wasn't _wholly_ unenjoyable, she supposed, for she truly did relish being close to her siblings once again. It was the feeling of her every movement being observed and picked apart by the overly attentive masses that was driving her to distraction. It make her skin itch something fierce and it made her long for the bliss being No One once held for her- to exist in the shadows and never the center of attention. Now, every time she glanced towards the room she found eyes locked upon her, watching her like some exotic specimen.

She knew it wasn't entirely their fault. She had been gone for a long time and no one knew where she had been- only that she had appeared unexpectedly after almost seven years without a word from her, accompanying the Lannisters of all families. She'd known there would be curiosities and questions, and she'd accepted all that came with her decision when she decided to return home. She could hardly change her mind at this point in the game. So she sat through dinner in it's entirety, a perfectly poised Lady of Winterfell, and when she was bid to once again follow her family from the room she did so eagerly.

She found herself again in the same room she'd spent so much time as a child observing her family as they clearly shored themselves up for the coming conversation. They clearly expected her to express her disapproval in some loud and obstinate way as she'd have done as a child, and she wondered to herself how much it would throw them off when she didn't.

"Arya, child.." Her Mother began, sitting beside her. "I never meant for you to find out so soon or so suddenly…"

"Find what out, Mother?" She asked innocently, hands clasped neatly in her lap.

The woman's blue eyes dropped from her own and she didn't meet them again as she explained. "War… War instills desperation in us all. It makes us do things we otherwise wouldn't ever do.. and this war particular was has lasted quite a long time."

She seemed to steel herself, lifting her eyes back to grey. "But, somethings we always knew would happen eventually. Things like marriage and starting a family of your own. When you became of age to marry, a betrothal was put into place between you and an.. ally of ours."

"Oh?" She quired, tone still calm and curious. "Which ally? If I might ask?"

She saw her mother's jaw clench for a moment before she answered. "With House Frey."

"I see." They were watching her as though they expected an explosion and she could see her sister wringing her hands across the room. "House Frey is rather large.. Do you know which of his sons or grandson's I'm to marry?"

Their apprehension turned more to confusion and she saw her Mother and Robb exchange another look. "Lord Walder has not seen fit to share that bit of news with us yet. The terms were left open until you were found."

Her anger flared briefly, but she was able to keep it covered. They couldn't even be bothered to find out which of his horrible spawn she was to be stuck with? "I see." She said instead. "You've given me quite a lot to think on Mother. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll call it a night. It's been a long journey, I'm sure you understand."

"Oh! Yes, of course. I suppose we will see you in the morn. Arya, sweetling-" the woman paused before she could clear the door. "are you truly okay with this union? You're not going to do anything rash, are you?"

Arya smiled, turning back so her mother could see her guiltless expression. "Of course I won't do anything rash, mother. As you said, we always knew this would happen eventually. I will do my duty and marry whichever of Lord Frey's family he wishes me to, as soon as he wishes me to do so. I know my duty." She vowed, watching the surprise once again flair on their faces before she took her leave in truth.

She only returned to her room long enough to pull on her boots, arm herself and draw her cloak. She would have changed back into her traveling clothes, but they seemed to have been removed from her room, much to her dismay. A warm nightgown had been left in their place across the foot of her bed. She paused to look down at it oddly, for she hadn't even seen anything like it since fleeing Kings Landing so many years before. It seemed like such a frivolous thing to dawn such soft and flimsy clothing, used to slumbering in the clothes she wore, so as to always be prepared to move if need be… But she supposed such things would begin to seem normal to her again eventually.

Feeling a bit nostalgic, she sat down on the featherbed and glanced around the room, taking in all the odd little bits she had left scattered around. She could see the small pile of unique rocks scattered across the windows edge that she had collected with her siblings along the river as a girl, a leather-bound book on the history of the Targaryen's she'd borrowed from the Maester and never returned sat atop her bedside table, the small carving of a wolf her father had made sat beside it…

Suddenly feeling like she was sinking into the too soft bed, she nearly lept up and headed for the door. She moved through the halls that had once been so familiar and comforting until she came out into the open courtyard before the keep. The sun had lost since sunk past the horizon, but the moonlight across the snow, along with the torches and fires glowing across the landscape, was more than enough to see by. She took a deep breath, enjoying the sting of the cold air after so long being indoors.

She made her way though the yard and past the main gate until she could see the expansive camps sprawling out in the three visible directions. She thought briefly of heading back towards Jon's tent, not having seen him at supper, but decided she needed a bit of a break from the emotional upheaval that her family as a whole had been.

Instead, she turned the opposite direction and headed towards the red banners that had become so familiar to her over the years. She arrived to find the setup just as she had grown used to and she made her way casually to Tywin's tent, nodding to a few of the soldiers as she went. She ducked inside without hesitation, familiar enough with his routine to know he would likely be sitting at his writing desk poring over some letter or other at this time of night.

True to habit, he glanced up at her as she entered and then gestured her to take the seat across from him. She sat at his bidding and was promptly ignored for the time it took him to finish penning his letter. "How do you fare?" He questioned as he rolled the parchment, pale eyes fixing on her to take in her minute expressions as he'd learned was necessary in determining truth from lie with her.

"I fare fine." She replied easily, not giving away any of her feelings. "How fare you? Enjoying Winterfell's hospitality?"

His eyes narrowed at her just slightly but he didn't deign respond to her inquiry. "I am somewhat surprised to see you still in a dress. I thought for sure you would have changed back into your rags before you showed yourself again."

"My 'rags' were removed from my room whilst I was at supper. I do hope they find their way back to me else I'll owe your son a new shirt."

"I'm sure my son can make due with one less. You on the other hand.." He gestured at a small bundle of cloth set nearby. She reached for it slowly as he bid, assuming it the gift he had promised her when he asked for her presence. "…seem to have a shortage. I hope these will suit?"

Neatly folded were two pairs of finely woven black men's style pants along with three shirts designed almost exactly as she'd borrowed from Jaime though quilted to be thicker and sized to fit her slight frame. One was black, one dark grey and the other a deep red, all with unique and almost invisible patterns sewn in for decoration, subtle enough not to bother her. Folded beneath it all was a much finer cloak than the one she wore, made much thicker and warmer, with a warm black fur collar and several more pockets. "These are wonderful." She remarked. "Thank you. Where did you get something so fine on the road? This can't all have been made today?"

"I had them commissioned from the Princes' personal tailor. He has been working on it for several days."

"Trystane brought his tailor on the road with him?" She questioned in disbelief.

"Along with enough fabric to sew him an entire winter wardrobe twice over." He replied dryly.

"It's truly no wonder the company travels so slowly."

"You've no idea."

"Do you mind if I go change? This gown is driving me crazy."

He shook his head and gestured her off. She shot him a quick smile and ducked out, somehow forgetting that Jaime would have taken his tent back over, obviously expecting her to move back into her childhood home now that they'd arrived.

"Oh! I, I'm so sorry, I-"

The bare chested blond sat on his small folding stool beside the warm brazier, hair still damp and clearly having just washed and shaved down his beard growth, running an oiled cloth over his gleaming sword. "Arya!" He exclaimed in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you to come here tonight." She saw his naked toes wiggle and he looked almost embarrassed to be caught in naught but his trousers.

"I didn't think about it. I am sorry, truly, I, your father gave me some clothes and I wanted to change. I suppose I got used to using your tent without thought. I'll have to break myself of the habit."

He shook his head, standing to his feet and sheathing his blade. "You may use my tent anytime you please- no forethought necessary." He told her, pulling his shirt, cloak, and boots in short affair.

"Oh, you really needn't-"

He shook his head and shot her a smile. "Anytime." He insisted before ducking out and leaving her privacy to change. She found herself smiling after him but wasted no time in stripping off the dress and pulling on a pair of pants and the grey shirt she'd been gifted. The quality was undeniable and they fit her well despite the tailor not having her measurements- the cut of the tunic emphasizing her small waistline and the curve of her bust while still looking sleek and elegant and allowing her free movement. She pulled her new and thicker cloak over her shoulders and tucked the discarded dress into a ball in one of the larger inner pockets.

Feeling much more herself, she ducked outside and made her way across the short distance back to Tywin's tent. She found both men inside, Jaime clearly conscious of showing his presence so as to not be accused of impropriety while she was undressed. She wondered again what his father had said to him when he pulled him aside that morn. She wondered if the man somehow knew they had slumbered together the night before.

If he did know, she hoped he continued to play ignorant around her at least. She would much rather his son have to deal with those awkward conversations than her, though she would prefer him to remain ignorant in truth, even if nothing had happened beyond a restful sleep. "They suit you." Jaime remarked, looking her over quickly.

"They do." Tywin agreed with a short nod.

"Yes, thank you- they're perfect." She said again, truly grateful for the gesture.

The man nodded his head silently and gestured her back to her seat. She noticed his letter materials had been removed from the small writing surface and a game board set up in it's place. She looked at it curiously as she took her seat, recognizing it as Cyvasse though she'd never had the chance to learn it. "My son tells me you wish to learn." He commented blandly as though reading her mind, gesturing towards it casually.

"There's no one better to teach you." Jaime spoke, it sounding like a complement though his stifled grimace told her otherwise. "Although to be honest, I've witnessed plenty enough of these lessons already in my life and have no desire to watch another. I'll leave you to it- have fun." He nodded his head to them both and disappeared as quickly as he'd come.

She steepled her fingers together and looked carefully over the pieces lay out quite obviously for that purpose. She had the feeling he would be as exacting a task master in this teaching her this as he was in anything else, but it didn't turn her away from the prospect. No, instead she allowed her lips to curl as she glanced across at him, waiting for her first instruction.

She stayed for nearly two hours before Tywin shooed her out. Unceremoniously dismissed, she wandered over to the nearby fire where she could see her two familiar traveling companions sharing a drink. Jaime held out the wineskin as soon as she joined them, glancing at her inquiringly. "So? How'd the lesson go?"

Her brows furrowed thoughtfully as she took a draw and handed it on. "I think your father might be the most intelligent military commander alive."

The man's son chuckled. "Aye, he very well may be."

"And?" Bronn spoke up. "How'd the family reunion go?"

"Ahh, that.. it was... Good to see everyone again." She replied slowly.

"It was 'good?' Well that's not exactly high praise."

"No, I, it…" Her brows furrowed as she tried to explain. "When I was a girl, there was a lot about Winterfell that bothered me. After I left, I began to think perhaps I was bothered out of childish righteousness and ignorance in the ways of the world. I though perhaps my own perception was the cause of my unhappiness and not because of anything really wrong or unusual. Compared to the other places I've been and the types of people I've met.. Winterfell seems like it should be a dream. But now.. after naught even a day, I'm starting to feel bothered again."

"Bothered by what?" Jaime asked next.

"Several things, really. The way my brother is treated for daring exist in my mother's household, held solely accountable for the sins of my father undertaken in times of war. The way expectations are established without discussion or even regard for logic, the sheer blatant ignorance as to the going-ons in the rest of the world.. I don't know, things here just seem so.. _limiting_, I suppose. So stagnant. Dull."

"You a traveled woman now. Most of the people here have never left the North. They don't have your experiences to open their eyes." Bronn piped up, arguing logically.

"It seems a shit way to live." She remarked quietly. "That's a terrible thing to say, isn't it? This is my home and yet the prospect of spending the rest of my life here seems almost unbearable after less than a day back."

"I always did think the North the most dreary place in the Seven Kingdoms." Bronn commented, handing her the skin. "Don't think you're alone in that now that you've seen more than it."

"Where would you live if you could- anywhere in the world?" Jaime questioned looking honestly curious.

Her head tiled as she thought about it. Where would she choose, if the choice was hers? If she wasn't runny somewhere or other? She'd enjoyed Braavos, but she likely wouldn't be able to go back, not with how she left. She didn't think she'd be safe, never knowing if the faces watching her were true or a lie. Volantes had been interesting, but she decided she would never live in a Slave City after witnessing it firsthand. The Dothraki sea was unique, but rather to bare for her tastes. Dorne might be nice, but she hadn't yet gotten the chance to visit that particular kingdom.

"Somewhere warm." She said generally instead of naming any one place. "Somewhere warm enough to swim in the sea. Somewhere with traders and merchants and markets and lots of people. Somewhere that's easy to travel from.. There's still so much of the world I have left to see."

"You should visit the Summer Isles, if you ever get the chance." Bronn advised. "White sand beaches as far as you can see, villages built right up to the water, foliage you've never seen before. Animals in colors you wouldn't believe. Gorgeous, it is, nearly every day, no matter the season."

"It sounds nice." She agreed, picturing it in her head.

"Aye, it is."

"And you?" She asked the Lannister son. "Where would you live?"

"I rather miss Casterly Rock, actually. It sounds dreadfully boring, I know, to name my childhood home, but it's my favorite place out of everywhere in the world I've been. It's been far too long since I've been back. You might like it there actually- it's warm- on the Southern edge of the Westerlands, right on the Sunset Sea. We have sea trade, but it also lies just at the crossroads of the Riverroad, the Searoad, and the Goldroad, so there's always plenty of traders and merchants moving through."

"It sounds nice." She agreed before she glanced up to see how far the moon had moved. It was farther across the sky than she expected and she decided she should likely head back to the keep to get some rest. She pushed herself up with a sigh and wished them both a pleasant night before she made her way back towards the keep.

In the quiet of the night, she heard the rhythmic pounding of a hammer upon steal of a smith and allowed her feet to veer off towards the sound. She peeked in through the window and saw the long stretch of bare back and ripped arms working the red hot steel, shirt stripped from the obvious heat in the forge and hair sheered practically down to the man's scalp. It sent a note of nostalgia through her as she remembered finding Gendry the in the same state many a times before. She shook her head, pulling away from the window and continued on her way, wondering what might have happened to the apprentice smith who'd been sold by the Brotherhood to the Red Witch.

She made it back to her room without further interruption and tucked her new clothes away in her drawers. She ignored the sleepwear, stripping herself of her boots and cloak and then settling into the bed otherwise fully dressed.

… Where she sunk immediately into the feather filled mattress even more deeply than she had when she sat on the edge of it earlier in the eve. She lay still at first, waiting several minutes to see if she would become accustomed to the lack of support beneath her. When that didn't happen, she shifted from her back to her side… Then to her other side, and then further, laying mostly on her stomach. She tried every variation of every position she could possible consider and spent far too long shifting around before realizing how futile the attempts were and standing in a silent huff. She pulled the blankets and pillow free and lay them out on the cold stone floor closer to the fire, folding most of the fabric beneath her in a makeshift bedroll.

She felt herself settle immediately and only hoped she would wake herself before anyone else attempted to the next day. It might seem a bit odd where she to be found, otherwise. Still, if needs must, and she would rather sleep well, if somewhat unusually, and retain her wits than to remain where it was considered proper for her to rest out of some inconsequential fear of being discovered and, what? Considered bizarre? Why was it even crossing through her mind?

So things to consider… so many pointless decisions to make…

_To be continued_

Notes:

I'm telling you guys, this story is writing itself. I need to stop talking about what's coming next, because the chapters end up longer than expected and then I don't get to what I've promised! So, my favorite scene (so far) has been written, but I decided it would be rushing it to tack it onto this chapter and so instead cut it at a good spot and that scene will PROBABLY show up at the end of the next chapter (though the foreshadowing did happen here!).

Thank you for all the feedback you've left so far. I really enjoy hearing what you think and your comments/reviews can sometimes help me decide if I'm torn between taking something multiple ways. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, thanks so much for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

It felt like no time at all had passed when she was woken by a knock on the door of her bedchambers. The echo of flesh on finished hardwood was so unusual it sent her sitting up with her dagger immediately in hand, confused fog lifting quickly despite her lingering tiredness. She pushed herself up with a sigh and shuffled across the room, pausing to pull her boots on from sheer habit.

She opened the door to find her sister and two unfamiliar women waiting. "Oh! You're already dressed!" Her sister exclaimed, brow furrowed the slightest bit like she couldn't decide if she approved of her wardrobe or not.

Arya glanced down at herself in turn, noting that the thick fabric of her tunic hadn't wrinkled from her sleep and still looked fresh and new. "So I am." She agreed, still a hundred times cleaner than she'd been in some time.

Red hair swayed with the shaking of her head. "No matter. Allow me to introduce my companions. This is Jaida Purell, our Seamstress who will begin sewing your gown for the celebration tonight and any you need in the future. And this is Mariela Wyne, she's to be your Handmaiden."

"I don't need a Handmaiden." Arya replied bluntly, not yet feeling up to dealing with others so early in the day.

"_Every_ Lady needs a Handmaiden, Arya." Sansa replied, it sounding almost like a reprimand. "It's proper and it's expected for a woman in your station."

"Okay, then I don't _want_ a Handmaiden."

Her sister glared down at her, seeming just as frustrated as she in turn. "You haven't even done your hair. At least let her tend to that, if you can't be bothered yourself."

It was Arya's turn to glare and she did so openly. "I haven't yet been awake long. I can manage my hair on my own, as I've been doing nearly half my life now."

"Arya, please. This is Mother's insistence- I've no more choice in the matter than you. You must simply accept it. Let Mariela brush your hair."

The younger of the two took a deep breath, centering herself into a better state of self-control. "Fine. Ladies, please, be welcome." She opened the door further so that the two strangers could enter. "You, I will see in the dining hall. Good morn, sister." She dismissed the taller woman and shut the door in her face before she could retort. She could practically feel Sansa's silent outrage at the uncouth action from the other side of the thick wood and it did nothing but cause satisfaction to swell for a moment.

She turned her attention away from Sansa and to the two women standing before her. "What exactly are your instructions here?" She questioned, tone perfectly civil, looking to the Maid first.

"To serve you in whatever way you require, Princess."

Arya's façade broke in disgust at the term. "We'll start by my requiring you to not ever call me 'Princess' again." She ordered immediately, lip curling.

"Yes, My Lady." The young woman stuttered as she dropped to curtsy.

Arya eyed the timid doe in annoyance and pulled her eyes to look at the decade-older seamstress. "And you?" She demanded.

"To take your measurements and have a gown ready for you to wear at the feast this night."

"That's it?" The woman dipped her head. "And have you been given any instructions on what type of gown I should wear?"

"Only that it be 'appropriate,' My Lady. And that it bares the insignia of your house, of course, but that goes without saying."

"Of course. Alright, let's get this over with so I can get on with my day."

Near an hour passed before she was able to escape the two women. More annoyed than she was willing to show, she bypassed the dining hall completely and escaped into the training yard, hoping she might find someone to spar with and work off some aggression.

Her silent prayers were answered, but not by her two brothers, who moved around each other off to one side. Instead her eyes remained on the very last man she might have expected to see in the keep but who could definitely hold his own against her. She saw a beast of a man fighting two younger warriors, scared side of his face mostly hidden by a fall of hair and annoyance on his own face as he took one the first and then the second of his opponents in quick order. "What fucking good are you to practice with it you can't keep your blade more than a minute?" He growled at the sprawled bodies in disgust.

She wandered closer, moving into place and drawing Needle before he noticed her there. His eyes widened, but only slightly. He'd clearly heard of her homecoming, even if she hadn't heard of his own presence in the keep. She took her starting stance, sword vertical behind her back and completely invisible in one didn't already know it was there.

He scoffed at her, squaring up against her. "Well if it isn't the little wolf bitch." He greeted as roughly as ever. "Back from her self-imposed exile at last." She could see her brothers stop and turn at the loud words, but she paid them no mind.

"Dog." She responded, lips curling in a challenging smile. She glanced as his defeated opponents again, seeing that they'd moved clear and joined the quickly growing ring of people watching them. She could see Prince Trystane, who'd accepted a room within the keep, standing to the side mummering to a Lannister man as he observed the scene. The soldier left quickly towards the camp and she had a feeling they would soon have an even larger audience. No matter.

She darted in quicker than most men could move and tapped him on the side of his thigh with the flat of her blade, quickly spinning out of his reach and resuming her stance, practically swaying back and forth as she moved like liquid in human shape. "See you still haven't learned to keep your fucking blade up." He commented as he attacked with his broadsword that was nearly as long as she was tall. She knew she was still almost comically small compared to him, but she'd gotten much better in the years since she'd last see him- a fact that was quickly noticed.

Any time she had tried to stand against him in her youth, he'd taken her down with hardly an effort. That she was even standing against him for the handful of seconds that had passed was likely more than she'd ever been able to do before. She ducked under his swings, dodged around his advances, and swept aside his blade when it did come too close. He got past her guard and she had to block him- causing her arm to reverberate painfully from the sheer strength behind his own arm. He pressed her back one step, two, three before she managed to twist away and break to re-center herself.

She twisted her sword around once to loosen her wrist and then raised it behind herself in preparation for his next move. "You gonna quit noncin' around and stand your ground anytime today?"

"And try to match you strength for strength?" She laughed incredulously, not yet winded. "You wish."

She dared back in and dipped around his back before he could turn to face her, kicking his knee out from under him and dropping him, though it still left them more or less at even height. She stepped forward to bring her blade to his throat, but he twisted his torso and brought his elbow up viciously to knock her back. Still, she could tell he pulled the blow for the fact that she remained more or less standing. Even despite the lack of full strength, she felt her lip split and an ache in her cheekbone that she knew from experience would quickly bloom into a vivid bruise.

Expressions of anger could be heard in the background, but she ignored them all as she grinned and then fruitlessly licked her lip to try and slow the dribble of blood forming a trail the side of her chin that had quickened when her smile pulled at the tear in the flesh. He'd risen to his feet already and then met again, just as viciously. Their blows began to meet more often as the speed of their exchange quickened and she soon passed her blade to her right hand to give her left a break.

Her shifted stance threw him, but only for a moment before he adjusted to the new angle. She was nearly as good with her right hand but nearly as good wasn't quite good enough when against a man as renowned a fighter as Sandor Clegane. She realized she wouldn't be able to match his blows with her less dominant hand and so switched back to her left after only a minute or so.

Her simple single plated hair had come loose when she'd been struck and had continued to unravel as they danced. It blew into her eye and she missed his booted foot come out to trip her as she attempted to spin past him as she'd done a dozen times by now. He was clearly waiting for his chance because his blade caught hers as she stumbled, and he ripped it from her hand with a firm and sudden twist of his wrist.

She allowed her buckling leg to collapse but used the shift in her weight to spin into a crouch facing him, small dagger held at the ready in her hand. "The fuck are you gonna do with that?" He goaded her, stepping closer and kicking her sword further away as he passed where it had landed.

Her free hand pressed flat against the cold ground as her leg came up to connect with the inner side of his knee. It was his turn to stumble with another curse and she lunged into the opening he left. She started to bring her dagger up but his left hand came up to catch her wrist and he squeezed it viciously, forcing her to drop it as her fingers went temporarily numb. He shoved her backwards and away from both blades, cocking his head. "Surrender yet, girl?" He asked, stepping closer.

"Not really my style." She commented, still in a fighting stance despite her lack of weapons.

He cocked his undamaged brow as if to ask 'really?' but raised his arm anyway. He swung at her almost lazily, aiming his armored sword hand to deliver a backhand to her abdomen rather than intending to hit her with his blade. She dodged easily and scoffed at the pathetic attempt, dancing around him in an attempt to exchange their positions so that he was no longer between her and her own steel.

She managed to get a quarter of the way around before he realized what she was doing. She tensed to drop into a roll that would bring her closer to them more quickly, but he reached out as she moved and grabbed a fistful of her hair, intending himself to bring the edge of his blade to her throat to force her surrender. She cursed silently in her head as she realized she wouldn't be able to make him release his hold without losing a significant amount of hair from her scalp.

Thinking quickly, she reached her left arm behind herself to his hip and lifted her right up to wrap around behind his neck. It left her front open to attack, but she defended herself by using her hold on his neck to lift her weight from the ground and use her booted feet to keep his sword arm at bay. She used the added leverage to kick off of and flipped her slight frame clear over his head. He still had a fistful of her hair, but he hadn't been expecting the move and she was able catch herself as gravity grabbed hold of her once again by griping his waist with her knees.

The dagger she held in her hand came to press against the soft skin beneath his jaw and the courtyard was silent save for their heavy breathing. A single drop of blood dripped from the point before she pulled the blade away and dropped back to her feet as he released his hold on her.

He turned to face her, bringing his hand up to wipe the blood from his skin as it tickled his beard. "You've gotten better." He acknowledged, sounding almost impressed.

"Or you've gotten old." She rebutted wickedly.

"Cheeky shit." He said, shaking his head. "Where'd you get the second knife?"

She smiled at him, eyes gleaming. "From you, of course." She twirled it around her hand as she held it out to him.

He looked at it in surprise and reached down, huffing what was almost a laugh as he felt empty sheath. "Crazy bitch." He muttered quietly as he tucked it back into place.

"Arya!" Her mothers shrill voice came from the direction of the keep, sounding absolutely scandalized. "What on earth-!" She couldn't even finish her sentence, so great was her ire. Her cheeks were flushed with her temper and she was eyeing her competitor with almost as dangerous an air as her children often carried, family resemblance obvious in that moment. Her sister and youngest brother stood with her, Sansa watching her with an expression similar to her mother.

Rickon, on the other hand, was looking at her as though she was suddenly much more interesting to him. His eyes were darting between her and the Hound as she moved to retrieve her own weapons. She wiped them both on her pants to clear them of the ice crystals before she tucked them both back into their place on her person. Only then did she approach her family, spying both the Lannister men and Bronn now standing beside the Prince, along with the soldier who had obviously gone to retrieve them and a couple more besides.

Her elder brothers approached from their own spot, Jon hanging back a couple of steps behind Robb, though his own expression was just as dark as the eldest's. "Mother?" She enquired calmly as she came within range to do so without needing raise her voice. "You shrieked?" She pressed at the woman's continued outraged silence.

"Arya!" Sansa scolded her with a frown.

"This is _hardly_ becoming of a Lady of your station." Catelyn finally spoke up, voice tight. She'd always been the disapproving one of her parents when she'd been a girl doing something meant for 'the boys.' Her father would turn the other cheek if he caught her, but her mother could get furious depending on the situation.

Arya had never heard her yell as loudly as she did the time she'd snuck from her chambers when she was supposed to have been practicing her writing to climb the towers with Bran. They'd made it nearly to the highest point when their mother had come upon them and Arya was sure all the keep heard that bellow. "You will come and get cleaned up, right now." She ordered hotly, keeping her voice under control after her daughters' comment.

"Why for?" Arya questioned in turn, frankly unwilling to do so quite so soon after escaping the walls. The elder woman seemed to swell, edging closer again to rage. Her flush darkened and lips paled as she pressed them together, seeming to hope her sheer presence would be enough to cow her daughter into doing what she was told as she would have in her youth. Her mother was one of the least threatening people she'd met in the last eight years, however, and the play no longer worked. She shook her head, continuing herself. "I'm no longer a child in need of being watched over by a septon, Mother. I _am_ a woman grown and I _will_ spend my days as I please. I will return in time for my welcome home feast, I assure you."

She spun on her heal and strode the other direction, not looking back at the angry stuttering she could hear along with the hushed whispers of her siblings. She stopped before the Lannister party, who watched her approach curiously. "I hear there is to be a hunt in preparation of the feast tonight. Would any of you care accompany me?"

Jaime and Bronn spoke in favor immediately, as did Trystane. The others declined, though wished them good fortune. The foursome started to leave the area when they were interrupted quite suddenly. Arya startled as a blur approached quickly from behind her. She turned to see her youngest brother and glanced up at him curiously. His bright blue eyes were watching her keenly. "Can I come hunting?" He asked in his accented voice.

She cocked her head at him and then looked to her companions curiously before turning back to the redheaded boy. "Can you stay quiet?" He nodded. "Can you shoot a bow?" He nodded again, smiling. "Alright." She finally agreed, unable to turn him away and not really wanting to.

"Rickon!" Catelyn shouted from behind them. "Where on earth do you think you're going?!"

The boy shook his head in annoyance as he ignored his mother, muttering something under his breath. "Is that the old tongue?" She asked curiously. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and nodded slowly. "Where did you learn it?"

He didn't answer immediately, even as he spoke up. "You've been gone a long time." He remarked instead. "No one knew where you were."

"That's true." She agreed with a nod.

"Where were you?" He asked bluntly.

She glanced at him first in surprise, and then to those who stood around them. Thankfully, they hadn't been followed out of the courtyard and they were nearly back to the Lannister camp and so not in hearing range of anyone else. Jaime knew where she'd been, and she thought Bronn might have known or suspected. Trystane didn't, but he was technically Jaime's nephew and so could be considered trustworthy to some extent. And really, did it really matter if others knew she'd in in Braavos? Robb and Jon already did and so increased the possibility of other's finding out despite her. It wasn't like she would admit to what she'd been doing there, but there was nothing unusual about fleeing to Essos. Some people must have considered it as a possibility, at least, considering how long she'd gone unseen on Westerosi soil. "I went to Braavos."

"Braavos?" He asked, sounding confused. "Where's that?"

She glanced over at him, wondering again where he'd been. She'd been forced to learn world geography when she was far younger than him. It hit her suddenly how differently her brothers had spent their young childhoods than she and her older siblings. Did Rickon even remember their father? Did Bran? Did they remember what it was like to have a rare family meal when someone wasn't fighting with someone else? Did they have any pleasant memories at all of the time before the war? "It's in Essos." She answered softly. "To the South-East of here, across the Narrow Sea."

"Oh." He answered, rolling his lips thoughtfully. "What were you doing there?"

"I was with a .. friend. He taught me how to fight, how to survive this world."

"You're a good fighter." He complemented.

"Thank you. Do you know how to fight?"

He nodded. "Not as well as you."

"I'm older than you are." She reminded him with a small smile.

He nodded again, still looking thoughtful as they reached the camp and waited for their mounts to be retrieved along with one for her brother to borrow. "Osha took me to Skagos when Bran went beyond the wall." The boy told her after she was sure the conversation at an end.

"Skagos? Beyond the wall? That's where the two of you went when Theon attacked Winterfell?"

Another nod. "There's a lot of fighting on Skagos, but I think it's because people are bored." He confided.

"Is it boring there?" She asked, honestly curious. There were so few stories of the Northern Island, said to be home to giant unicorn riding cannibals. The Maesters denied such stories of course, but they weren't willing to travel to the island for proof and so many still questioned what bizarre beasts might inhabit the rocky frozen hunk of land jutting from the Bay of Seals.

He shrugged slightly. "Not much to do."

"I suppose not." She agreed. "Did you like it there at least?"

Another shrug. "I miss it, sometimes." He told her.

"I miss Braavos sometimes, too." She whispered back to him with a secretive smile.

She looked away from her brother as the horses were led up to them. As her eyes scanned around them, she caught green eyes watching her fondly. He kept her gaze once he had it and didn't look away again until his squire came to a stop at his side.

The group of five mounted easily and were soon riding away. Rickon had been distracted by a tale Bronn had begun telling him and Jaime fell back beside Arya while the others pulled slightly ahead. He had a square of cloth and held it out to her with a small pile of snow melting from within. "For your lip." He explained lightly.

So used to pain was she that the discomfort had already faded into the background and she had nearly forgot about the blood now nearly dried on her skin. "Thank you." She murmured, bringing it to the tenderest spot first and then working her way down until she thought she'd gotten it all off.

"You missed a spot." He murmured when she dropped her hand.

"Oh? Where?"

Still not looking away, he reached out to take the cloth gently from her hand and then reached up to run it softly over the flesh beneath her jawline where the blood had run sideways at some point.

"Thank you." She nearly whispered, feeling his finger brush just slightly across her flesh without a barrier between them. He saw her shiver lightly and he couldn't help but run his eyes over her. She was still watching him with her own expressive grey eyes, and they looked almost as conflicted as he felt. He'd never been so drawn to another as he'd become to her, even only knowing her in truth for less than a moons turn.

Her cheekbone had already turned blue and purple from the elbow she'd taken and her lip had swollen quite far. It didn't make her any attractive to him- if anything it made his blood more heated to know that such a deceivingly tiny and innocent looking woman could be so very lethal as to take down one of the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms. The thought of it alone was enough to stir his loins despite his rigid self-control. It was only fortunate that the way he sat hid any movement that may have occurred.

His mind naturally turned to his conversation with Bronn. He was right in thinking Arya wasn't a typical Lady of high birth. Hell, Jaime himself knew that her life experiences already outweighed what most people knew in their entire lifetime, despite her young age. He even considered that she may already have lain with a man, Essos being much freer in such matters and even more so considering the associations she kept while living there.

Her eyes were searching his face and he realized he'd been silent far too long. A throat clearing before them stopped him from rectifying his mistake and he looked ahead to see her tall, wild looking brother shooting him a dangerous look of his own, despite his still somewhat childish features. Arya too saw the look and nudged her mount forward to catch up with the boy, shooting Jaime one last searching glance before she turned away.

He ended up riding beside Bronn, watching the two in front. They'd left behind the noise of the camp and so needed to be quiet now so as to not scare off any game. It was time to find some game lingering in the barren frozen wasteland, they needed every advantage they could get.

The day ended up a pleasant experience all around. They'd managed to get a stag, a boar, seven rabbits, three pigeons and be back in the keep by mid-afternoon. Someone must have had people waiting for their arrival because she was besieged by her newly required Handmaiden before she could even help hand their catch off to those preparing the feast.

She sighed in agitation, good mood fading almost immediately. "What happened to choosing your battles?" The blond man beside her questioned lowly, looking between the two and inferring from there.

She glanced over at him in slightly surprise, not having realized he was watching her. She was becoming less and less aware of it, actually. She should be more concerned at the loss of her instincts, but as it only seemed to be around a few select people and so she didn't worry overly much. She might regret that thought if they were to betray her in some way, but she didn't really think they would. "Is that your less than subtle way of telling me I've rocked the boat enough for one day?"

"Never." He assured her. "I'm simply reminding you of your own words."

She frowned at him lightly but had to admit he was right. She was sure the feast itself would draw enough ire her way, no need to add to it before the festivities ever even started. She rolled her eyes before she gave in and walked toward the nervous looking woman. "I assume my mother asks for me?"

"Yes, My Lady. Without delay."

"She's in her solar, I presume?"

"Yes, My Lady."

"I know the way. You're dismissed." Arya started to walk away but stopped when the woman followed closely behind. "I said you're dismissed." She repeated, slower.

"I'm sorry, My Lady, but the Lady Stark insisted I accompany you the whole way."

Arya bit her tongue out of sight and pressed on without another word. It was going to be a long night.

It was an hour before she was free of her family, and only then after allowing the seamstress and handmaiden both back into her chambers to help her ready herself for the feast. Her mood improved slightly once she was dressed and she reminded herself that she was in control of herself, no matter how helpless her mother still had the ability to make her feel. She wasn't a dainty or perfect little Lady who would go quietly into married life. She'd shown that earlier by defeating the Hound, and she would show it with the dress she had chosen to wear.

It was more Essosi in design than Westerosi, but the seamstress had done a good job despite her unfamiliarity with the pattern. The fabric was a deep charcoal grey, with the nearly invisible silver swirls stitched into it. The top was a tie around her neck that widened down into the front of the gown. It dipped deeply between her breasts, reaching almost to her belly button. The fabric pulled around her waist, leaving the expanse of her back bare, though a thick belt around the narrowest part of her waist served to both hold the dress in place and emphasize her slenderness. The skirts fell in layers to her ankles, hiding her feet and the fact that she wore her boots beneath rather than the slippers she'd been given. They also hid the dagger strapped higher up on her thigh and the ease with which she could retrieve it through the overlapping layers.

She allowed her hair to be pulled up into an elaborate braid that cascaded from the corner of one temple, across the back of her head, and resting down the front of her right shoulder until it ended soon after. More important to making her statement, it left most of her scars and her bruised face all on blatant display, further emphasizing her undesirableness as a Lady Wife, should any of the other Lords catch any ideas after the events to come.

True to form, a couple of small strands of hair had already escaped and were pushed behind her ears, leaving her large eyes and shapely brows on display. She once again refused any powers be applied to her skin, save for the small amount of oil on her brows and a tiny amount more on the tips of her lashes, making them stand more prominently from her face and drawing even more attention to the uniqueness of her stormy grey eyes, already highlighted by the colors of the gown.

Mariela had been trying to get her out the door for nearly ten minutes, but she didn't give in until a knock came accompanied by her sisters call. She finally left the room and joined Sansa as they made their way to the Great Hall, though she'd had to wait for her modestly clad sister get over her shock at the sight of her. The redhead had tried to convince her to at least dawn a cover or cloak, but she had refused.

She'd worn such clothing before and had long been accustomed to keeping her poise despite the feeling of exposure, and so she walked confidently with her back straight, shoulders back, and head held high. All eyes were immediately on them when they entered the already full room. Sansa kept her eyes straight ahead while leading her across to where their family waited buy Arya glanced around curiously at all the faces. She recognized some of the people in the crowd but the majority seemed to be strangers.

Her Mother and elder brothers looked as scandalized as her sister had, but neither Bran nor Rickon seemed bothered. The reaction from the crowd was varied, but she was pleased to see many of the Northers looking disapproving and whispering amongst themselves. She was led to her seat and pressed firmly down, warning looks shot her way. She smiled innocently, seeming ignorant of the uproar she had caused already.

The meal itself passed mostly in silence at their table and she spent the majority of it listening on the conversations nearby. It wasn't until the food was cleared that things got interesting. She had left the table once people began to mingle, not wanting to get caught in conversation with her mother just then, now that there was much more noise to cover their words.

She found herself drawn towards a particular group as had become familiar to her, both because she felt comfortable in their company but also because they served as a natural buffer to most others. Tywin seemed to take the gathering and her attention as an opportunity to quiz her on the names of those present and the houses behind their names.

Jaime and Bronn had long since gotten bored and had wandered off to find ale, so the two of them stood alone when they were interrupted in a most unpleasant way. The sensation of a gnarled hand squeezing her arse was almost enough for her to draw steel, despite the location in which she stood. She might have regardless if she didn't already suspect who it was. Tywin obviously caught the tensing of her frame and looked past her to see what had caused it. "Lord Frey." He drawled in distaste, eyeing him with his icy blue gaze.

"Lord Lannister." The greasy man replied. "I've come to have a dance with my new good-daughter. Pardon. Come, girl."

Tywin's eyes practically frosted over in their intensity, though his face remained still. "She's not your good-daughter yet." He reminded the other man.

"Bah, semantics. A few days will make no matter." He laughed, wrapping his hand around her wrist and almost deliberately squeezing over the hand-shaped bruise she'd received from her spar that morning. He used the firm grip to pull her away from the other Lord and to join with the other couples already on the floor.

She allowed the motion, feeling almost gleeful to get her opportunity so quickly in the night. A small bit had been worried she wouldn't get the chance at all, and she had to resist the urge to smirk. She shot a quelling look across at the still rigidly standing lord, who was watching them with such a cold expression it caused those surrounding him to give him an even larger berth than usual. He must have caught the flash of mischief in her eyes, because his own expression eased slightly and became tinted with curiosity.

The first minutes of the dance passed easily enough. He made a few little comments to her that she answered easily enough. She ignored his dipping hands and the lustful gleam in his eyes as she took in the full scope of his disgusting personality at length for the first time. She'd wanted to see if he were truly as despicable as she had heard, and it seemed he was all that and more. She shuddered as he pulled her close enough that she could feel his manhood press into her belly. "Perhaps I'll marry you myself. Bout time I got a new wife anyway. Don't know that my sons would know how to handle a woman like you." His breath was sour and she could smell it even as he breathed the words into her ear.

"And what type of woman is that, Lord Frey?" She questioned lightly.

His eyes dropped briefly to her split lip and colorful cheek and his own lips twisted. He leaned in close and could feel him inhale against her ear. "I like a woman who's not afraid to get a little marked up." He whispered, it sounding almost like a threat.

She smiled up at him, twirling in time with the rest of the dancers and moving easily back into his arms, despite the nausea that had crept up her throat at the very thought. "I wish you would." She responded, causing him to pull back in startlement at her words, not having expected her to agree to his perverted musings.

"Know the value of a strong man already, girl?" He sneered. "You're worth less if you're not pure."

"Humm, no. It would make my job quite a bit easier, you see." She continued pleasantly as she continued to move faultlessly.

"What job would that be?" He demanded, frowning suspiciously.

She smiled at him her sweetest yet as she leaned closer to whisper slowly in his ear in turn. "You see, my dear Lord Walder, I have something of a problem with betrothals. I have a problem with disgusting old perverts who get off on the pain of others. Even moreso, I have a problem with people who have betrayed my family, no matter if it took place in the past… Perhaps you can see why we might have something a conflict here? Differing in our positions as we clearly are?"

"I don't care for your 'conflicts,' girl. You've already been bought and paid for, and you'll damned well do as you're told." He rumbled back at her with a scowl.

"Oh, I'll do as I'm told." She agreed with a soft nod, still speaking quietly and for his ear alone, lips almost brushing against his skin sensually and distracting him from her actual words at first. "Have no fear about that.. I'll marry _whichever_ of your despicable spawns you pair me with. I'll say my vows, and I'll accept their cloak, and I'll call them my husband, and I will do my duty as expected. I'll be the perfect bride and I'll preform every obligation faultlessly… It'll be so very tragic though, when they don't even make it to their own bedding ceremony to meet Death. Rotten meat, you see, or perhaps tainted wine… Don't worry, I'll make it good, whichever method I choose."

She paused slightly for effect but continued before he could gather himself to reply, still holding him close. "I know in those sad times, it's common enough to marry the unconsummated widow off to another in the family- a brother, perhaps, or a cousin. I understand you have several to choose from. The first won't make it to the bedding, the second won't make it through the night. Oh, I'll make sure to kill them in some other way- a drunken tumble down the steps, perhaps, or un unfortunate riding accident, so as not to make it too suspicious." She admitted blatantly, enjoying the play of emotions across his withered face. "As I will the next, and the next, _and the next_, until there's not a single living Frey left for you to try and pair me with."

Her voice was a deadly threat and he clearly picked up on her seriousness for the ways his pupils dilated and sweat began to bead his forehead. "Right now, you're probably thinking my sister would make a much more manageable bride than myself, but know this: If you try to _trade_ me for her, the only thing you will accomplish is allowing me to destroy your family without the eyes watching me- I'll be able to get much more creative. If you _speak_ of this conversation to _anyone_, I will destroy everything you hold dear and then I come for you. It won't be a nice death; it won't be painless, and it won't be quick. And if you use this little conversation to try and break faith with my family or betray them in any way, I want you to know that there are not enough miles on this earth you could put between us that would save you from my wrath."

"If you do anything beyond being showing _how_ _pleased you already are_ to have my uncle as a member of your family I _promise you_ that you won't see me coming."

"Now, do we have an understanding, or do you need a demonstration of how firm I am in keeping my word?"

_To be continued _

Notes:

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	8. Chapter 8

She felt someone approach from behind and pulled away from the man who was still struck silent at her words. Her brother's voice came from her shoulder and a warm hand pressed lightly against he shoulder. "May I cut in?" Jon asked. "I'd like a dance with my sister." He voice was firm and when she glanced at him it was to see his matching grey eyes locked on the man she'd just threatened so thoroughly, unaware of the words just passed.

"Take the crazy bitch." He spat, face still even more pallid than it normally was. He spun around and left the room, muttering to himself as he went. She watched him leave calmly, not giving away any of what she was feeling. It was only once he was clear of the room that she turned to the man who looked so much like her. He stepped into place as her dance partner faultlessly, still remembering his own lessons from childhood.

They danced silently for a minute before Arya spoke up. "What was it like at the wall?" She asked quietly.

"Cold. Hard." He answered simply. "What are you doing, Arya?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Dancing? I thought I was doing a pretty good job at it, actually, considering how long it's been since I've moved through the steps."

"You know what I mean." He told her, but continued when she didn't speak up. "You're home for the first time in years and yet you seem determined to drive everyone away before we've even been able to celebrate your presence back in our lives. What are you trying to accomplish with it all? Why even come home, if only to be as difficult as you can to everyone at every turn?"

She flinched slightly in his arms and he must have felt it, for his expression softened slightly. "I only mean that everyone is worried for you. Robb and I won't speak of what you shared with us, but everyone else still has questions. You shouldn't be so harsh on Sansa or your mother, they just don't understand what you're trying to tell them without using your words."

"I don't think I have the words to tell them… not in a way they will accept."

"Than you can't get angry at them for not understanding." He told her gently. "You must be patient with them."

"Did you come over here solely to scold me?"

"Of course not. I came because I couldn't stand to watch that repulsive leech touch you any longer. The scolding is happenstance."

She rolled her eyes at him lightly. "You needn't worry about Lord Walder." She told him. "I can handle him well enough."

He looked down at her seriously, his own brows furrowed. "You know Robb didn't have a choice, don't you? He needed men anywhere he could get them, we were outnumbered ten to one and the Frey's hold the Twins. It was too important an alliance for him to pass up."

"He had a choice." Arya told him seriously. "The world is built upon choices, Brother. You made the choice to join the Nights Watch; Joffrey made the choice to have Father beheaded; Sansa made the choice to stand with Joffrey; I made the choice to flee the Capital and then Westeros entirely; Robb made the choice to rally the North into war, he made the choice to trade myself and Uncle Edmure in exchange for four thousand men and a strategic crossing; Theon made the choice to attach Winterfell when he knew it was most vulnerable; Bran made the choice to go beyond the wall, he made the choice to come back; _I _made the choice to come back. I would rather we speak the honest truth than pretty lies."

"Do you regret coming back?" He asked, narrowing in on the way she spoke the last, sounding honestly hurt.

"No," She told him, frowning thoughtfully. "I don't. I simply need to remember how to be Arya again."

"You've always been Arya. You needn't remember anything, you need only be yourself." Jon told her quietly.

"As you say." She said simply, neither agreeing nor arguing with him, though she remembered well the beatings she had taken until she could convincingly proclaim herself to be 'no one' at all and fool the best liars in the world.

"How did you know House Frey brought us four-thousand men? That's not well circulated knowledge."

"Lord Tywin told me. He said it was a needed alliance for the North. A sound strategy."

"You talk of warfare with Lord Tywin?"

"Sometimes. We talk of many things."

He didn't seem to know quite how to respond to that and was quiet for several seconds. "That was some pretty impressive fighting this morn." He commented then. "Not many could fare near so well against the Hound, let alone be able to claim victory."

"He was easy on me." She confided.

"You call _that_ taking it easy?" He asked incredulously.

"He should have knocked me out cold with the blow to my face. He held back his strength, else he would have had his victory then."

"It was pretty clear you know him. How did you meet? In Kings Landing?"

"Well, I knew who he was in Kings Landing, and he I, but only because of Father. He was always guardng Joffrey if I did see him, and I tried to avoid _his_ presence as much as I could. I.. I traveled with him once, though, after everything.. when I was trying to get home the first time."

"You traveled with Sandor Clegane? Alone?" He questioned more firmly, sounding concerned. "How old were you?"

"I did." She told him easily, not seeing the problem. "I was probably three and ten when I joined him, four and ten, mayhap, when I left his company. I might have been the safest girl in the Seven Kingdoms, traveling by his side." She commented then pointedly, seeing him still looking angered at the thought. "Back before I could take care of myself nearly as well. Back when I was still just a silly little girl."

"I suppose you would know best." He agreed dubiously, not questioning her further but clearly still not convinced. "Though I'm not sure you've ever been a silly little girl."

"No, I have." She told him seriously. "I had a lot of growing up to do. How did he come to be here, anyway? I wouldn't have expected him to be welcomed in Winterfell."

"We met him at the Wall, attempting to go beyond it with a couple of men from the Brotherhood Without Banners."

"The Brotherhood?" She asked. "Why did those fuckers want to go beyond the wall?"

"You know of the Brotherhood as well?"

"Oh, yes, I.. I was with them before I came across the Hound, actually. I exchanged their company for his."

"I see." Jon responded lowly, frowning deeply. "The two men who accompanied him said they were driven to their location by visions from the Red God, though they didn't yet know why. They joined our company and helped us retrieve a wright to bring back and show the crown. In doing so, they helped gain us the support we need for the true war to the North."

"Which two were they?"

He looked at her searchingly. "Priest Thoros of Myr and Lord Beric Dondarrion. Do you know them, too?"

"Yes, I do. I owe them a debt."

"You owe them a debt? You're starting to sound like a Lannister for all the time you spend with them. Though how you could have traveled with so many of my men without them mentioning it…" It began as a tense jest but ended with him shaking his head slightly in befuddled annoyance.

"The Brotherhood sold a friend of mine to a Red Witch for some coin. They were supposed to be bringing me to Riverrun to meet up with Robb and his army, but they decided hunting a Lannister raiding party was more pressing a priority. I'm not surprised they didn't mention me to you. Are they here now, too?"

"Aye, they are, but they are friends to us now, whatever they might have done before. I could not have survived without them at my back. They returned to Winterfell with us after we succeed in our task and they've remained here to stand with us through the end."

"How did you manage it? Capturing one of them?" She questioned, turning her thoughts from those she once liked and then hated so passionately for a time.

"With much difficulty. One wandered away from the army and got stranded on a bluff. It called the army towards it and we ended up in a skirmish with almost too many of them. I'm still not sure we would have succeed without the Brotherhood and the men Robb sent with us. It was still far too close for my tastes."

"Do you still have it? The wright?"

"No, we destroyed it after it served it's purpose. There was no point in keeping it alive any longer."

"Oh. I should like to see what one looks like."

"It looked like Death, flesh rotting off its bones but somehow still on its feet and fighting. They're terrible beings and I wouldn't like you to be around them."

"I know Death, Jon. It doesn't scare me."

"It scares me." He admitted to her, brows furrowed once again. "You should take it seriously Arya- there're so very many of them, you can't imagine how far their army spreads.."

He seemed so solemn that it brought a flash of guilt to her heart, though she hadn't said anything untrue. "You sound so much like Father now." She told him with a sad smile, changing the subject once again. "He would be proud of you- of the man you've become. Lord Commander of the Nights Watch before you even reached twenty. That's quite impressive." She complemented him, drawing a small sad-looking smile of his own in return.

"There's something I need to tell you about father, actually, but not tonight." He told her just as the song faded away and another began. They came to a stop and he pressed a brotherly kiss to her forehead before passing her hand to their elder brother next, not allowing any of the hovering lords to step in just yet.

The next song was livelier and she had a harder time remembering the steps. Luckily, her brother led her true and she doubted anyone else picked up on her small missteps. "It's been some time since I danced in truth." She excused herself quietly as she forced herself to keep her chin raised so as to not look down at their feet.

"I can imagine. Have no fear, I find myself dancing far more now than I ever thought possible- especially in wartime. Apparently celebration helps keep morale high."

"I suppose it's a good thing you have your wife to accompany you, then."

"It is, yes." He agreed, smiling down at her with his sparkling Tully blue eyes.

"How did you meet a Volantes woman anyway?" She asked curiously.

"On the battlefield, actually... She was uh, getting ready to saw a man's leg off."

Arya's head tiled back slightly as a sudden pearl of laughter broke free. "Yes, I suppose that would catch one's attention. She seems nice. She's very pretty.. As are your children.." She complemented.

He smiled at her again, twirling her around. "You've become quite beautiful yourself, little sister."

She rolled his eyes but didn't argue, not wanting to encourage him to argue back in turn. "I'm happy for you- that you've been able to find such happiness in such poor times." She told him simply before the pace increased. Because the song was so much faster, they didn't have as much time to talk and it was soon time to change partners once again.

She found her hand caught by one of the Northern lords, and the warning look she caught her mother sending her helped her decide to endure the next few minutes. It wasn't just a few minutes though, because he had was passed off to another Northman, and then a third. By then she was thoroughly done being courteous and had planned to duck off the floor before should could be grabbed again, but unfortunately she didn't quite make it.

Bronn stepped in front of her, shooting her an amusing look as he held out his own hand to her. She felt herself smile, knowing he at least would be more entertaining than the strangers who'd been holding her the last however long. True to his personality, his moves were slightly more showy than was typical and he hummed and sung under his breath to the beat of the music. He spun her faster around, twirling her until she was nearly dizzy and then held her firmly enough that she didn't stumble before her head stopped spinning. She laughed more than once during and it was easiest the funniest dance she had thus far that night.

Feeling parched, she again planned to duck off the floor when the music changed, but she felt the hand rest on her upper back instead. She intended to shrug him off before his familiar scent caught her nose. Her body moved to join his without active thought and she soon found herself moving across the floor once again. Unlike the others and even more obviously after the looser dance she'd just had, Jaime held her just the slightest bit closer, his hands lingering just the slightest bit longer on the bare stretches of her back and shoulders as they moved together through the steps.

"You seem to be having fun." He murmured in her ear as he held her close during a slow part of the melody.

"Dancing's a bit like fighting, just without all the violence. It's not the worst thing in the world to endure, I suppose."

"Mmm. That's good, but it's not what I meant." He whispered in her ear, bring her mind back to her earlier conversation with Lord Frey. She smiled at the memory, pulling back to look into his curious green eyes.

"We were just clearing the air." She said blithely, lips still curled but expression otherwise innocent.

"Walder Frey isn't the type of man to take loss quietly." He warned her. "You should be careful how you handle him."

"I'm always careful."

"Arya.."

"Jaime."

He shook his head at her but let it go. "Where were you trying to escape to before I caught you?"

"Just to get something to drink." She admitted easily, not in a hurry to leave his hold now that she was in it.

"You have been dancing a surprisingly long time."

"The longer I stay away, the less time my Mother has to question or scold me."

"Very clever. It does appear that she's waiting for you to return." He commented, peering over her shoulder in the direction of her families table. "You're going to have to talk to her eventually, you know."

"I have talked to her. I'm not 'not' talking to her." She defended herself.

"Really?"

"Really."

"What was the last thing you've said to her?"

"That I would see her at the feast." She replied tartly, rolling her eyes.

He shook his head at her again and then pulled her aside just before the song trailed off, so that they were at the edge of the dance floor on the opposite side of the room already when the couples began changing partners. She followed his lead as he ducked away and made his way over to a side table holding several pitchers of wine and extra glasses. He poured them both a generous serving and they stood in the shadowed corner sipping at their full cups.

It had grown quite warm in the hall and her cheeks felt flushed with it. She leaned against the cooler stone of the wall as she glanced around the room and enjoyed the break. Her glass was empty when her senses prickled suddenly and she glanced around again, slower. She found three familiar pairs of eyes watching her and she thought her heart might have skipped at the unbelievable sight.

She pushed off from her lazy stance and began striding around the room with purpose, setting her glass on a nearby ledge without care. Jaime followed, though he wasn't quite sure what had caught her attention so suddenly. They made it clear to the opposite corner and far to near her family for her liking before she finally stopped. "What in the seven hells are you doing here?" She demanded, voice edged in disbelief.

His brown eyes took her in and he looked almost embarrassed- like he wasn't quite sure where he should look with so much of her skin on display. "You once told me I could smith for your brother. Figured 'ere was as good a place as any." He told her, forcing his gaze to stay above her neck, though it kept wandering to her bruised cheekbone with a small frown.

"Then why the fuck are you with them?" She asked next, gesturing with her glass to the two men watching the scene without hiding their amusement. Gendry glanced behind himself to look at the two men from the Brotherhood, Thoros quite obviously drunk as was his norm, while Beric watched them all with his knowing little smile.

"Oh, well, I-" He stuttered, unsure how to respond in the face of her ire.

"It's good to see you again, little lady." Beric spoke up, saving him from having to respond further.

"You _sold him_ like an animal." She stated, tone angry. "Am I the only one who remembers that?"

"No," Beric told her, smile dimming. "But a lot's happened since then. A lot's changed."

She looked back to the man she might once have called her closest friend. He looked at her almost sheepishly and then nodded. "We went beyond the wall together."

Frowning, she replied "Jon told me the Brotherhood went beyond the Wall, but he said they were only two plus the Hound- he didn't mention you being with them."

"Oh, no, I wasn't actually. I was one of the men with your brother when we met up with them at Eastwatch. We had to get over our differences pretty quick like out there. Not much room for squabbles."

She turned from him to the two older men, conflict still tearing her mind. "I thought you hated wolves and lions? _They were trying to burn down the country side- and you were trying to save it_?"

"We're not the only one's who proclaimed to hate lions only to find ourselves in their company, dangerous girl." Thoros spoke up then, voicing the irony and looking pointedly over her shoulder at the Lannister son standing at her back.

Beric sent him a quelling look and spoke up. "There are no Lions or Wolves anymore, girl. Nothing from the past matters anymore- not alliances, not enemies.. There's only us and them- the living and the dead. If we hold onto our past squabbles instead of moving forward as one, we'll all face the long night on the side we don't want to be on."

She nodded, knowing he was right but wanting to hear it from them. "Jon said fire kills them."

"Aye, seems one of the ways."

"I don't have valerian steel or dragon glass. Can you teach me to light my blade the way you do?"

Beric and Thoros shared a look before turning back to her as one. "You need serve the Red god to learn that trick, girl. It's his power that brings the flame. _Do_ _you_ serve the Red god now?"

She tiled her head at him and allowed her lips to furl in s small smile, eyes calm. "I serve R'hllor, same as I serve the Stranger, same as I serve the Drowned God, the Black Goat God, the Weeping Woman, the Lion of Night, and the nameless Old God alike."

Thoros' eyes sharpened and he looked at her more closely. She nodded to him, watching his expression tighten. "You serve the Many Faced God now, girl?" He murmured quietly, still studying her.

"Valar Dohaeris." She responded just as quietly.

He brought his hand up in a gesture of acknowledgement. "Aye, and Valar Morghulis."

"Valar Morghulis." She lowered her chin in agreement. "Except maybe him." She continued, nodding at Beric.

Thoros smiled at her, though he still looked thoughtful.

It was Beric that spoke again. "I can teach you the way, it'll be up to R'hllor to decide whether or not to answer you call."

"That's all I need." She told him, for if R'hllor was Death and Death answered her call already by granting her the power to change her face, by taking her sight and giving it back with the same poisoned water that would kill anyone else who drank it, why would He not also grant her the power to light her sword and slay such unnatural death?

"Tomorrow, then." He promised, tilting his head in acknowledgement.

"Tomorrow." She agreed with a small thankful smile.

"Rum?" Thoros offered, holding out his flask.

He'd offered it to her before and she'd always turned up her nose at the sheer smell of it. That night, she accepted a swig and managed to keep her nose from wrinkling at the burn of it. It warmed her belly and made her cheeks feel even more flushed. She suddenly wished for the cold of the night air and glanced towards the door, wondering if she'd behaved long enough to make her escape.

"Different than you thought, being back?" Beric questioned with a sympathetic smile when he caught her look.

"Nothing stays the same." She responded.

"No, nothing does." He agreed.

And somehow, a scant few minutes later, she somehow found herself with the three from the Brotherhood, Jaime, Bronn, and somehow the Hound who they had come across on the way, seated at the top one of the abandoned towers, sharing the numerous flasks they had on their persons and passing the remainder of the night with the sound of festive music on the edge of the air whilst the rest of the keep continued to drink, dance, and indulge in merriment without them.

The next morn didn't start as it necessarily should have… that was to say, she was woken by a pair of Northern soldiers finding the group of them passed own in various positions around the remnants of the fire they'd lit in the empty room sometime during the night. The men were apparently part of a much larger group deployed to find them, for Daenerys had returned and a war council had been called for within the hour.

The six hung-over men and one woman forced themselves to their feet at the words and made their way slowly down the winding stairs that seemed much greater in length than they had climbing them. Arya broke away from the others and headed in the direction of her room, finding her Handmaiden already frantically waiting for her. "My Lady!" She exclaimed thankfully when she appeared. "Oh, I was so worried you wouldn't make it in time. Come, you must wash and dress!"

A bath had already been set up, though it seemed to have cooled in the time it took for them to be found. Still, she hoped it might help ease the ache in her head and so stripped herself of the dress she still sore and sunk gratefully into the tepid water, immediately submerging herself completely.

She remained under the water until her lungs began to ache and only then came back up for air. Feeling more awake if nothing else, she moved to scrub herself clean and then stood to dry. Mariela had another borrowed dress waiting for her but she shook her head and moved to her drawers instead, pulling out the fresh pants and black shirt she'd been given. She might have grabbed the top with dark red woven throughout, but the Targaryen color were red as the Lannister's and she didn't want to inadvertently show support for the foreign queen by wearing it to meet her.

Once dressed, Mariela cloth dried her hair and then twisted it into some sort of order before sending her on her way. Her sister didn't arrive to accompany her that morn, and she found her already mid-way through eating when she arrived in the dining hall. "Please pardon my tardiness." She excused herself without giving any justification to the much smaller gather of people than had been present before- the majority of them related to her in some way or other.

Her family had obviously been told that she'd been found, and doubtlessly in what state and of her interesting company. Her eyes went to Jon first, who was watching her with a look that clearly asked 'really?' They moved to her mother next, to see her lips pressed tightly together as she held her silence.

It was Robb that eased the moment by speaking up in turn. "Good morrow, Sister. Please, allow me to introduce her Grace Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of Meereen. Your Grace, my youngest sister, the Lady Arya."

"Your Grace." Arya greeted as was expected, falling into a shallow curtsy.

"Lady Arya, I am so pleased to meet you." The woman replied, words measured and even. "Your homecoming is a joyous occasion indeed- I am sorry to have missed your celebration. Had I know, I would have returned sooner."

"You are kind to say so, Your Grace." Arya told her with a cool smile. As eager as she was to see a dragon in life, she'd heard far too much of the notorious woman and her rule in the East to trust her or the words she spoke- stories of victory through treachery, of mass executions and of her dragons feeing on children and livestock alike.

The silver haired woman glanced over at her in interest, eyes lingering on her wardrobe and visible blade. "Will you be joining us in council after we break our fast?"

She began to nod in the affirmative but her mother spoke before she was able to finish the motion. "No, she will not." The woman stated firmly. Arya's brow raised slightly as she turned her head to meet her stern blue eyes. "A war council is no place for a Lady."

Arya saw the Dragon Queen glance coolly across at the elder woman, clearly as displeased with the statement as she herself was. Though curious what the woman might say, she decided to head her off quite pointedly "And yet I hear you've been attending Robb's council meetings for years." She reminded her.

"My attendance and yours are not the same thing. I am widow to the former Lord of these halls. I bore the King in the North from my own womb. I have more right than any to council him now, without his father here to do so himself."

Her brow raised higher and she turned towards said brother to see which stance he would take in the discussion. He looked between his mother and his little sister, brows pinched. He looked like he might argue against their mother for a moment before he met her matching blue eyes and seemed to falter. "Please, Sister, join us to break your fast. We can discuss the council once we are done eating."

Though he didn't come right out and say it, it was clear he wouldn't stand against their mother in this. Unfortunately for them, she hadn't come all the way back to the North to be left in the dark when it came to the planning. She glanced around to see how the others were taking it. Sansa was looking down at her plate, also clearly unhappy. Jon was looking at her with his own request to behave unhidden on his own features. Prince Trystane was also in attendance and was watching her with a cocked brow, waiting like everyone else to see how she would respond- the Dragon Queen included.

She decided no response was the best response of all and so she simply took her seat and began filling her plate without a word. She ate quickly, not engaging in conversation but taking the time to listen to what the others were discussing amongst themselves in small groups. Finding nothing of interest, her attention was instead drawn to one of the men standing guard at the wall behind the Dragon Queen- obviously a Dothraki from his coloring, dress and weapons of choice.

She'd known the Horse-Lords were in the city, but she hadn't actually come across any of them while their Queen- or rather, their Khaleesi- had been absent. She wondered if she might be able to convince or barter with one of them to teach her to shoot her bow from a crouch on her horses back as they were famed for in the far East. She'd had the chance to see it, once, and she'd wanted greatly to learn the skill ever since.

Once she'd finished her quick meal, she stood and bowed her head in acknowledgement of those present. "Begging pardon, your Graces'. I shall take my leave for now and see you all later. Good morn." She said politely before leaving the table. She could feel the eyes watching her back but no one attempted to stop her. Perhaps they were simply happy she hadn't pressed about the council. If so, they would soon be disappointed.

Introductions done and plan in mind, she veered off back to her room to quickly exchange the black shirt of the black and dark red and then made her way to the Lannister camp. It was already bustling when she arrived and she could see Tywin, Kevan, Lord Tyrell, and Jaime separating themselves from the bulk of men in preparation to make their way within Winterfell and to the council chambers.

She walked up and took a stand between the Father and Son, gathering their attention as she approached. "Good Morn, My Lords." She greeted with a small smile.

Polite salutations were returned by all and then Tywin turned to face her directly. His eyes scanned over the choice of clothing but he didn't say anything about her willingly dressing in the colors of his house. He had honestly wondered if she would even wear that one but had given it to her anyway. He was pleased to see it on her, and the color combination suited her dark features even better than he had imagined they would.

"I had thought we would see you inside." He remarked, question in his voice. "What brings you back here?"

"I should actually like to arrive as a member of your party, if you don't mind having me there with you." It wasn't phrased as a question but he heard it all the same and raised a brow in response.

"Why not with your hosting family?" He questioned directly, well aware of the implications of what she was requesting. "I had thought you would want to attend along with your Brother's Bannermen."

"My lady mother does not believe it to be my place to attend." She answered him honestly, knowing he wouldn't agree if she gave him anything but the truth.

"And so you thought you would join us instead? Trying to start the war again so soon, My Lady?" He asked, but she could hear the acceptance in his tone, even before he actually gave it.

"Of course not." She denied anyway, playing along. "But I returned to the North for a reason and it wasn't to be kept in the dark while the Lords planned without me. If you do not wish me to attend with your company to avoid further tension with my House and yours than know that I understand and accept your decision, but I will still be present in some other way."

"What other way would that be?" He asked, sounding more curious than anything. She didn't respond, face remaining calm and resolved as she watched him to see what he would say. "Oh, very well then- I invite you to join the members of my council as we convene to discuss our war efforts this morn." He invited her formally.

She smiled, accepting with a pleased 'thank you' as she turned to take her place amongst their ranks, falling into line with them as they made their way inside.

_To be continued _

Notes:

I don't normally give out information that will come to play later on, but I've had a couple of people ask what happened to Cersei, and I will say this: In the show, before Tywin died, he had betrothed his daughter to Loras Tyrell. That plan still would have been in play had he not died and it will come up later on.

Thank you to everyone who has been leaving feedback- and a special thank you to ValKat- I love reading your long reviews and hearing what you think. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter- if there's anything in particular you are hoping to see, please let me know and I will try to work it in if it fits with the story line! :)


	9. Chapter 9

It was much darker back in the halls and it took their eyes a moment to adjust. They made their way to the meeting room along with representatives of all of the Houses and Armies stationed around their walls. No one was talking as they made their way to a group of empty chairs close to the head table- a place of honor, considering their position and the numbers they brought with them.

Because others were still entering in waves, Tywin's sudden pause went largely without notice. Those at his side, however, noticed immediately. Arya glanced up to see his expression frozen in a glare and followed his gaze to land on the man sitting at the Dragon Queen's side- the imp, Tyrion Lannister. Jaime caught the same exchange and his own eyes widened as he looked back and forth between his father and little brother.

Instead of immediately taking his seat, Tywin strolled slowly the last few steps until he was stood before his son. He nodded to the rulers sitting beside him as was expected of him and then turned the full power of the icy blue eyes on the ones that were much kinder. "Tyrion." He stated, voice composed if not for the chill it gave off.

"Father." The imp responded, keeping his own composure well. Arya was watching with rapt attention, lingering a few steps back by their seats, though none had yet actually sat.

"So this is where you've run off to? To join a foreign invader against your own family- against your own Nephews crown? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised after what you did to your last Nephew who wore it. Hand of the 'Queen' indeed." He sneered, eyes catching on the pin he wore so reminiscent of the matching on resting on Tywin's own breast.

Tyrion took a deep breath and glanced around the room himself to see how many were watching the exchange. It seemed everyone towards the front quarter had noticed, but those further back were more concerned with shuffling in and taking their places. Queen Daenerys spoke before her Hand could reply, speaking up in a sharp tone of her own and drawing the Lords attention.

"'I've long wished to meet you, Lord Tywin." Though she didn't name him, her angry violet eyes glanced past him to pause on his eldest son, making it clear the father wasn't the only one she was eager to meet. "You've quite the history behind you- quite the position you've gained for your family. And yet, here you now stand, father to Kin and King-slayers alike, no grandchildren of your own to continue your line once they are gone. How very proud you must be, of your legacy has become."

Everyone watching saw the minute flinch from the youngest Lannister, who opened his mouth to respond before his father could utter the words he could already see coming, but the man waved him off with a gesture very familiar from his youth that quite clearly told him to cease and desist immediately.

Looking down at the white haired woman as those she were little more than a child playing a game of pretend, he allowed his lip to curl in an almost invisible sneer. "My Legacy will always be remembered- whether it continues past the next generation or not. I would bid you remember _Your Grace_, what my Legacy did to the last Mad Targaryen who threatened to destroy these lands."

"Is that a _threat_?" She asked, voice sharp and foreign accent coming through thicker on the words.

"The only threat you need worry about now is the army to the North."

"And after?"

"I suppose we will decide that if we find an 'after' to worry about." Arya heard Jaime sign beside her and saw him look as if he had to stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose. She watched as his eyes came up to meet those of his brother and the two share a long-suffering look at the tense exchange, despite the different sides they now apparently sat on. "A word of advice to leave you with- if I may," The queen's gazed at him stonily but he continued anyway. "Lord Tarly was something of a friend of mine, as he was to many others. His son a good man. If you continue burning the Lords and their Heirs of these lands on a whim- continue to express this fiery impulsivity your Grandfather was so renowned and _despised_ for- and the only thing you will succeed in will be rallying these lands against your own rule with no help needed from me."

Daenerys glared at him even more angrily than before, and Arya saw Robb turn to give her a curious look and Jon a shocked one and she realized tbe woman might not have shared that action with her new allies. Icy blue eyes moved over dismissively to his son, shooting him a look that seemed to say 'and this is who you've allied yourself with?' Tywin didn't wait for a response from either of them and turned instead on his heel with all the scornful dismissiveness he'd built over the years.

Luckily the council was called to order only seconds later and so everyone still standing quickly either took a seat or moved against the wall to clear the line of sight down the long rectangular room. Robb stood and began by addressing those in the room, thanking for coming together under such circumstance and despite the events that occurred in the past.

It was really a very good speech, delivered with the same fervor his men had gotten used to hearing from him on the battle field, and had caught the attention of every man-and woman- in the room. It was only once he settled back into his seat and opened the floor that the discussions began in truth.

"We can't beat them in a straight fight." Jon said stoically. "There's too many of them, even with our reinforcements."

"So what can we do?" Jaime spoke up.

"The Night King made them all- they follow his command. We've already seen how the wrights fall as one when a White Walker is felled. If we could take down the Night King, they might _all_ fall as one… getting to him may be our best chance."

"If that's true, he'll never expose himself." The Lannister son stated.

"'Might,' 'may.'" Tywin spoke up scornfully. "I'm not one for planning battle strategies around what we think _might_ happen. What are the facts, what do we actually have to work with?"

Robb frowned at him from the front of the room. "You want the facts?" Jon asked firmly, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "The facts are this: They out number us a hundred to one, no matter how many men we find to fight on our side. If we fall, we will raise as our own enemies, forever adding to their numbers. We can't beat them in a fair fight- we can't meet them in open battle, or they will march over top of us and leave nothing behind."

"Who said anything about open battle?" Tywin questioned back. "There are strategies we can utilize that will increase our chances beyond that of a single long shot that might not even work if you do manage to pull it off. By all means, target the Night King if that is your wish, but we still need to throw everything we've got in their way on the _off chance_ your plan doesn't work." He finished in a drawl.

A cupbearer making the round attempted to pour wine into the empty glass beside the Lord while he was speaking, but Arya stopped her with a silent hand over the top, gesturing her instead to pour water. She gestured the same for herself, as did everyone within their council. Tywin's distaste for drink during such times was very well known. The action still caught more attention than she expected it would, eyes lingering on their party, and on her and the Lannister Lord specifically but she attempted to pay them no mind beyond remaining aware of them. The company they currently sat amongst would doubtlessly have him even more on edge and not wanted to risk his wrath.

"Alright." Robb agreed, nodding his head once. "You're right. We need to give ourselves the best chance possible. What do you suggest?"

"Tell me, _Your Grace_, do you know of the great battle of Tiqui? … I can tell you don't. Does anyone here?" He glanced around the room as if already knowing no one would. Silence followed, for even if someone thought they might know the information he was seeking, few would dare bring his attention to themselves. Cold blue eyes moved across his eldest son but clearly didn't hold out hope he would know either. Tyrion may have, but he didn't speak and his father didn't look at him.

Instead, his eyes settled on Arya, a brow raised. She knew the history- they had discussed it just recently when they'd played Cavasses for that first time. She had been the one to mention it while she'd been examining the different pieces of the game- one of them being a delicately carved elephant. She was intrigued by the different methods of warfare fought throughout the world, and of the defenses against them. She glanced back up towards her family as she answered. "Tiqui is a city in Yi Ti. It's neighbored by a fortified city of Warrior Maids, Bayasabhad. The warriors of Bayasabhad raised and used elephants in combat, for whilst it was much too dry for horses to survive, the elephants could find and use their trunks to dig for water. It made them nearly undefeatable in combat."

"Tiqui was connected to Bayasabhad by the Sand Road. Some three hundred years past, they insulted the Warrior Maids and brought their wrath down upon the city. They marched with every warrior and elephant in their army. Familiar with the strategies and might of Bayasabhad, Tiqui knew they couldn't defeat them face to face- the elephants would surround them and then trample them all as they closed in- so the dug a great pit fifteen feet wide and just as deep all the way around the city. The lined the bottom with spears and then they covered it all with tar. They used a thin woven mat to cover the pit and then spread enough sand over the top that it couldn't been seen."

"The mats extended far enough past the edge that there was counter weight holding them down when the elephants marched on the city. When the mat gave way under their feet and they were sent into the pit, the sands shifted and collapsed with them, pulling down the Maids following who were on foot. Once they went down, Tiqui sent flaming arrows into the tar, lighting it and burning those that were still alive along with the dead. So much of the army was lost that those who survived retreated to Bayasabhad and the war was ended before it began. They remained behind their walls for two decades before they were even seen again."

The silence continued for a few seconds after she finished and it was the young Lady Mormont that spoke first. "There are too many of them to all fall into a pit at once." She stated, watching Arya expectantly as she waited to see what she would say.

"Yes, but if these creatures are truly as mindless as they're said to be, we could dig more than one. We would obviously need to line the bottom with dragon glass instead of steel tipped spears, if we want to make it as effective as possible. Beyond that, it is simply one strategy we may employ. There are many more." She ended, glancing back at Tywin to see him looking almost smug.

The elder man nodded his head regally. "So, would you like to spend more time talking of a one long-shot idea, or would you like to discuss strategies that will actually make a difference in the coming battle?"

"You still disbelieve?" Jon spoke up. "After everything we've seen and know?"

"We know next to nothing. We don't know that killing one will kill them all. What we do know is _three_ ways to kill them, and we need to use those three ways to the fullest extent we're able. Now, perhaps you do things differently in the North, but in the South we base our strategies around fact, not fantasy or guesswork."

Many in the room looked angered at his words and tone alike, but they held their silence as Robb raised a hand towards the room. "Alright." He agreed, meeting the Lord eye to eye. "We improve our trenches. What else?"

The council seemed to last an age before they were finally released. Arya stood to leave once they were adjourned, but was called back by her Mother. The Lannister party paused with her but she waved them off and waited for the room to finish emptying, striding slowly back towards the dais with her hands clasped behind her back. "Yes mother?" She asked calmly once she had come to a stop after the heavy wooden door had shut behind the last man.

Catelyn looked down at her from where she still sat at the head table, her own hands clasped in the same manner as her daughter, but lay before her resting on the table, knuckles stark white from how tightly she held herself. "I thought I had made it clear that I did not want you to attend this council." She stated after a moment.

"You did." Arya agreed simply, not moving.

"And yet you are here anyway?"

"I am."

"Why?" The redhead demanded, agitation rising in her voice.

Arya tilted her head at her mother curiously. "As I told you- I did not come back to be pushed to the sidelines. If you do not wish me to join as a representative of the Stark family, I will do so in another way. Why _does_ it bother you so much? My will to fight never bothered Father so, and he would have had more reason if it had."

"Do not speak of your father in this-"

"Why not?" It was Arya's turn to ask. "I have as much right to speak of him as you do. Did he tell you in his letters? I never really knew for sure."

Her flush of anger turned to a frown of confusion. "Did he tell me what?" Catelyn questioned, still sounding stern despite her change in countenance.

"About my lessons? I suppose he didn't. No matter." She stated dismissively. "May I go?"

"No, you may not!" Her mother exclaimed, standing from her seat. "Where has this insolence come from? You were always a willful girl, undoubtedly, but this? You're never before shown such _blatant_ disregard for my word!" Arya watched her pace the room, feeling almost sorry for the woman who was so clearly frazzled. Her cool expression cracked just slightly, but her mother caught the shift. Catelyn strode closer to her on the next turn and stopped just in front, reaching out to place her slender hands upon Arya's shoulders and then moved up to cup her neck, looking her in the eyes. "Why won't you talk to me, Arya? Why won't you tell me where you've been or why you're so.. so…"

"Why I'm so what?" Arya asked, honestly curious.

Catelyn studied her closely, eyes a mirror of Sansa's observed her closely from an older countenance. "Distant. Cold. I know you're home, I can see you standing before me, feel you under my hands... but it's like you're still not even here."

Her mother's voice was hardly more than a whisper but it stung as if it'd been shouted. Her hands came up to press atop her mothers, feeling the cold settled into her bones. "I'm.. sorry I'm not the same girl I was when I left. Not because I'm ashamed of who I've become, but because I can imagine how disappointed you are and I'm sorry to have caused you that hurt when you've already had so much. But.. This _is_ who I am now. The things I've seen, the things I've lived through… the things I've done.." She shook her head, using her hold to pull her mothers hands free and tucked them against the women's stomach. "They've shaped me irrevocably. This is all I am now. I'm sorry it's not what you prayed for."

She stepped back as she saw a single tear roll down her mother's cheek and turned to hurry from the room, seeing Robb move towards their mother from the silence vigilance he'd taken when the room cleared. She was glad the distraught woman would have someone to lean on who was capable of doors.

Arya ended up back in her room just long enough to change back into her old cloak and the folded travel clothes she found when she arrived. She headed immediately outdoors, knowing the plans they'd discussed would already be being put into place and figured they couldn't possibly have too many people digging the large trenches.

She gained some looks when she arrived at first, but when she grabbed a spade and jumped into the shallower lines that had already been scored into the frozen earth, none complained or tried to send her away. And so she worked, side by side with the men until they'd all become covered in a frankly disgusting mixture of frozen sweat and dirt. She remained when Jaime appeared in her vision, pointed in her direction by those surrounding her. She remained as he joined the line beside her and they worked in silence through the mid-day meal of hard bread and watery soup brought by servants from the keep to help try to warm them from the inside.

They remained after, until their section of the trench was deeper than the both of them were tall and their arms had long since grown numb to the pain. They remained until the night was called and the men began shuffling in for the eve meal. Arya lingered behind after she had pulled herself out of the trench, glancing around at the progress they had made. Jaime pulled himself up behind her and rubbed his forehead as he straightened.

She glanced over him and then down at herself. They were both truly filthy, but she didn't feel quite like going back amongst people quiet yet. They still hadn't spoken and she wasn't really in the mood to, but she found she didn't mind his company despite her disquiet. She gazed at him consideringly before turning away slowly and heading further away from the city. He didn't follow immediately- not until she glanced back over her shoulder at him.

He used his longer stride to come even with her and they walked side by side into a crop a trees that quickly thickened. The terrain became more uneven and the snow deepened until she questioned whether or not it had been a foolish idea to try and come here so late into winter. Just before she turned back they broke through a cropping of thick shrubs and felt the air warm.

She glanced over at him and picked up her pace. He followed, growing more and more intrigued as the snow became thinner and thinner until it disappeared completely. The trees completely encroached them and it was near dark beneath for a few dozen steps. Eventually though the trees opened up and a serene clear blue hot spring rose to meet the air. She used to come here as a girl, it had been a secret spot to her siblings and the oft escaped there during the long summer days.

Hesitation settled low in her stomach for a moment before she shook it off stubbornly. She'd spent countless hours in the company of naked people- both alive and dead- and she was sure the other had as well. There was no cause to be shy over their bodies, and they could both use the cleansing of the mineral rich water.

Her hands were steady as she stripped down at the edge of the pool, though she didn't turn her head to look at her companion. She slipped into the water as soon as she was bare and sighed in pleasure at the heat that immediately began to penetrate her chilled flesh. Hearing no motion she spared a moment to shoot a pointed look behind herself at the frozen man before she ducked herself beneath the water to scrub at her prickly scalp.

She kept her eyes closed when she felt him enter the water and didn't open them again until after she had surfaced and wiped the excess from her face as best she could. She blinked her eyes opened to see him watching her with a peculiar expression from across the small pool and she wondered what he might be thinking about.

"You were brilliant today." He complemented her softly as if he could read her mind, meeting her eyes.

"I don't think everyone would agree with you on that." She remarked, one corner of her lip curling. She should feel the weight of water trapped in her lashes and she blinked once to see if it would fell.

He shook his head slightly. "You more than earned your place. No one present could doubt your contributions."

"My mother could." She remarked. It didn't come out cross or bitter, it actually came out rather neutral, but he frowned at her all the same.

"Then your mother is a fool." He told her simply, as it that was all she needed to know.

Their eyes met and she waited a moment for him to continue but he didn't. She couldn't help but let out a huff of laughter.

"What did she say?" He asked only after getting that reaction.

Arya didn't answer right away, glancing up instead at the gap in the tress above them showing the colors creeping across the sky in the wake of the setting sun. "That I'm… Distant. That it's like I'm not even really here.."

His frown deepened, though she wasn't sure why he was so concerned. "I'm sure she didn't mean it like that." He told her softly, moving a step closer and then visibly stopping himself. He must have dunked himself when he'd first gotten in because his shorter-than-it-used-to-be blond hair was mostly slicked back from the water, though a few strands had fallen forward and out of place.

"It doesn't matter." Arya told him, sounding uncaring. "I'm not the daughter or sister they lost. They are right to mourn her."

Jaime did step closer that time, and he didn't stop himself until he was only a few steps away. "It does matter." He told her. His voice was still soften the evening air even as it was firm. "You are grown and experienced and evolved in a way none but you will ever truly understand. That doesn't make you less of yourself, it makes you more."

The fluttering feeling came back in a rush though altogether more intense. She'd admitted to herself weeks ago that he was attractive, but hadn't intended to let herself get attached. It was a crazy idea to even consider- The former Lannister heir, now sworn to the Kingsguard, and a daughter of Winterfell, trained in Braavos, once lost and now returned. It sounded like one of those silly stories her sister would read when they were young and perhaps she resisted the idea at first based upon that notion.

But what did it really matter? She was bound to disappoint her family no matter what she did, simply for being whom she was. Why did this matter? Why resist when the very idea of it seemed so satisfying? She knew they were as alone as it was possible to be and that no one but them would know what happened beneath the darkening purples and pinks that covered the sky above them, the first of the stars just starting to become visible.

She took the last two steps forward and tilted her head up to see him. He himself looked torn as he watched her come even closer and she could tell he was stubbornly keeping his eyes on her face. "Jaime.." she whispered on the night air as she reached a wet hand up to trail along his slightly scruffy cheek. He gave in with the slightest amount of pressure and ducked down.

Their lips didn't meet immediately like she thought they would, but rather he took a moment to study her further, so clearly torn. "You are a betrothed woman. This isn't appropriate." He murmured finally.

"The betrothal won't stand." She argued just as softly.

"We can't know that for sure."

"We can."

"Arya.." She didn't allow him to come with any other arguments and instead pressed her lips to his. He remained frozen for only a second before he seemed to groan deeply from his throat in surrender. His own hands rose from the water to cup her face and he shifted the angle of their lips just slightly so that they fit together better than before.

The kiss started tentative and remained almost chaste. Jaime pulled back after an almost indeterminate amount of time and Arya blinked up at him upon the loss of his lips against hers. "We should head back." He told her softly. She frowned but he shook his head and pressed one more, much shorter, kiss to the corner of her mouth. "We are likely already missed. We can't stay out here all night."

Her frown deepened at knowing he was right, though she might have preferred to camp right there on the warm ground beside the spring until morning. They rose slowly from the water and moved to pull their dirty clothes back on with reluctance. It was only once they were both dressed that they came together again. Jaime brushed a strand of wet hair back behind her ear, running his fingers across her cheek as he did so.

Arya lifted herself to her toes as he ducked lower, their lips coming together once again. He was the first man she kissed, though she'd seen enough to know the gist of it. She'd always thought it was kind of a pointless exchange- what was even the point, really? But now, standing there with him beneath the starts, she'd never felt closer to another person in her life. That feeling remained even as they broke apart and began making their way back towards the keep. They had a fire priest to find anyway.

_To be continued…_

Notes:

I'm so sorry for the delay! Work got crazy again this week and I've had an awful cold to go along with it. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! Please let me know what you think!

Thank you so much for reading and for the feedback left! :)


	10. Chapter 10

They found Beric and Thoros camping with Jon's men. Jon himself hadn't stayed in the council chambers after the dismissal, but she still didn't feel quite up to another run in with family and so make a wide arch around his own tent in her journey. The Hound was with them when they arrived, if seated back further from the flame than the other two, but them as a trio had become a familiar sight in the past days and she felt comfortable in approaching them.

"Evening." Beric greeted them as they sat across from the duo. They both nodded silently in return, words seeming unnecessary just then, although Jaime did accept and pass an offered skin when one was handed across to him. Thoros had remained silent himself, but was watching them closely, a wicked gleam growing in his eye at whatever it was he saw. Jaime sent him a challenging look back, knowing better than to act otherwise defensively, but the attempt did naught but gain him a drunken wink in return.

The skin made another pass but the group remained rather listless despite their newest additions. The Hound barely cared enough to spare them a glace, lost as he apparently was in his own thoughts that night, tucked away as he was in the shadows. "So, will you teach me?" Arya spoke up after only a few moments, looking across at the only one who had spoken aloud since their arrival.

Beric laughed, glancing at her from his one good eye. "Still not one for patience or quiet contemplation I see."

"Never much saw the point in wasting time."

"I'll drink to that." Sandor grunted, finally speaking from his own seat a bit further away.

"Aye, you would." Beric agreed with a quirked grin. "Alright girl, come stand clear." He ordered, gesturing her to join him a few feet away. She did so without protest, watching him closely. "I told you when you asked that this isn't a sly ruse I can teach you. It's not a slight of hand or a trick of alchemy, nor anything I myself am doing. You say you follow the God of Many Faces?" He asked and waited for her acknowledgement. "How much do you know of R'hllor, specifically?"

"I know enough." Arya told him confidently, holding back a smile as she thought of the hours she'd spent reading of or listening to stories of the Red Temple of Volantes and of the Red Priests and their dedications. He shot her a look and she let it curl one side of her mouth. "Everything fundamentally important."

He didn't look as if he believed that claim but he didn't argue. "Than you of the common practices? That the Red God prefers a blood sacrifice?"

Her own expression shifted minutely as she replied. "I know that men worship as they will."

He tilted his head at her in acknowledgement. He drew his sword and brought it up to cup the blade with his other. He pulled the blade smoothly across his flesh, undoubtedly splitting skin and staining the edge of his blade with his own blood. "Âeksiō ōños [Lords light]" he murmured clear enough for her to understand and flame immediately danced across the steel with the same sweeping path his blood had stained it.

Arya stepped closer, examining the blade and then to his hand which somehow seemed to have healed over enough to stop bleeding in those moments. She supposed it wasn't so far fetched a thing to consider when one to into account that the God had sent Beric back from His realm many times before. Why shouldn't he also be able to heal on a lesser level when his name was invoked? The man in question submerged the tip of the blade into the snow bank nearby to extinguish the holy flame and then gestured her to try it herself.

She drew her much smaller blade from its sheath hidden beneath her cloak and she'd watched him hold his own less than a minute before. Whereas he didn't take any time before performing the familiar action, she paused first for a long moment, closing her eyes and take a deep frigid breath of air as she calmed her mind and body fully.

She thought back to her days in Braavos, to the years she'd spent serving in the House of Black and White. She thought back to the earliest beginnings, when she still dressed as herself and proudly declared her name with asked. She thought of the countless hours in the dark temple, spent sweeping those expansive stone floors day in and day out. She thought of being asked to give up her identity- to throw everything that remained of Arya away so that she may dedicate herself fully to her God. She thought of the people she had comforted before she fed them the poisoned water to in order to grant them the mercy the were so desperately seeking. She thought of cleansing the corpses as a rite of passage to the realm of the dead. She thought of the rows and rows of faces preserved hidden within the halls, she thought of the men she herself had sent to greet her God outside of her service a Acolyte, but in a way that had become all-encompassing of who she was over the years…

And she drew Needle across the tender flesh of her hand as she repeated the words in High Valyrian exactly as he had, down to the pitch and intonation. A wave of heat passed beneath her hand just before a flame appeared suddenly from nothing but a trickle of her lifeblood. She pulled her right hand away quickly and glanced down at the shock of burning that seemed to sear across her flesh, leaving behind nothing but a thin scar laid over her palm.

Her eyes moved up to her blade, studying the flame closely enough to feel the heat of them on her face, watching as the colors twisted and danced together across the gleaming steel beneath. Satisfied and secretly a little thrilled, she mimicked him in dousing the fire in the snowbank beside her. When she glanced up again she found them all watching her with varying expressions. She suspected none thought it would work, but she herself hadn't doubted, not really. Duty to her family may have driven her home, but it didn't change the beliefs or faith that had been shaping her, or perhaps had been being shaped by her, since she was a little girl.

She nonchalantly retook her seat beside Jaime, not giving them the satisfaction of reacting to any of their looks. Thoros held out his skin of rum across the flame with an entirely new expression on his face as he studied her, and she accepted it with a nod of thanks.

"Just what I need- another burning fucking blade swinging by me in battle." Came the gruff complaint suddenly from the hush. It broke the lingering tension and a couple of quiet gruffs were heard. Conversation inevitably sparked and resumed, and it continued for some time.

It continued, in fact, until she heard a startled "Arya?" From the walking path nearby their campfire.

She glanced up to see her two elder brothers walking past, both looking at her and her company in surprise. "Brothers." She greeted them without standing.

They stepped closer, both with matching expressions of displeasure that they half-heartedly tried to hide for the sake of unstable politics. "We looked for you earlier. We could not find you." Jon told her.

"Because I did not want to be found." She told him in turn, not offering an explanation nor justification beyond that simple statement.

"Can we.., would you join us? We've something we want to talk to you about."

Her first reaction was to simply turn them away, not sure she was up to any more familial upheaval that night, but she held it back by the skin of her teeth... or perhaps her training. "Oh? What about?" She asked instead, still not rising.

"It's not something we want to discuss amongst company.. It's something of a family matter." Robb spoke up for the first time, glancing pointedly at what must have seemed an unusual blending of companions to him. She supposed it was easier for Jon to overlook her being comfortable in their company- he'd been at the Wall and largely removed from the fighting, but he'd taken these men all on as his own- men no other Northern commander trusted or wanted at their backs. Robb, on the other hand, had been killing Southerns and Lannister soldiers for years- it had to be odd to see his baby sister sitting amongst them.

Arya finally rose to her feet with a neutral expression, her surge of reluctance buried and well hidden. Perhaps this conversation would go better than the last had? One could only hope. She followed the two of them across the grounds and to Jon's tent that she had done so well avoiding on the way in. It was empty save for Bran when they arrived. Robb and Jon initially looked surprised to see him sitting there, but it didn't last and they all soon took a seat around the small table set up inside after greeting him. "So, what did you wish to speak to me about?" She asked, not wanting to linger in silence.

They didn't answer immediately and from the look they exchanged she wondered if they were having seconds thoughts about telling her whatever it was they brought her there for. She continued to watch them expectantly but did not try and pressure them into talking. If they didn't feel as if they could trust her with this 'family matter,' well, that was their decision to make- though if that were the case they really shouldn't have insisted on her company. She saw Jon glance at Bran, but the younger simply replied "It is your decision."

Jon turned back to her and leaned closer, resting his wrists on the table between them as he did so. Still he did not speak, nor did either of the other two men. "What is it, brother?" She finally asked, growing concern audible on her voice.

The man flinched as though she struck him, turning his eyes away. "That's really the thing of it…" He murmured before continuing, stronger, "Arya, what I'm going to tell isn't known by any outside of our family and Sam- it can't be known, yet.. if.. well, if ever."

Arya nodded her head but didn't speak up, knowing she would likely get information more quickly that way than if she interrupted his train of thought.

"Eddard Stark wasn't.. Arya, he wasn't my father. He was my uncle. My mother was his sister, Lyanna.. My father was Rhaegar Targaryen.. I'm not your brother."

Arya continued to watch him silently as she processed what he had told her. The childish part of her wanted to refute what he claimed, but she didn't have a logical argument to throw back at him. It made since, really, the more she thought about it. Of course her father wouldn't have begotten a bastard- he was the most honorable man she'd ever known. Knowing what she did of Robert, she knew he would have ordered Jon's execution, as he ordered the execution of the other Targaryen children.

Her father had loved his sister- he would have done anything she asked of him, even taken her child as his own to protect him from his best friend's bloodthirst, whether it was begotten of kidnapping and rape or not. Nodding slightly as she accepted the notion, she met the eyes that had always been a mirror of her own and said "You may not be my brother, but you're still my blood; you're still a Stark." She told him simply but firmly.

He smiled over at her and reached out to ruffle her hair as he'd done when they were children. She felt a surge of annoyance at the gesture, but it was a fond echo from years long passed and so she didn't argue or pull away.

"Arya." Bran spoke, pulling her attention to himself. "There's something I want you to have." He continued, reaching into his cloak to draw a sheathed dagger with an intricately carved handle. She accepted it, looking at him curiously.

She brought it closer and drew the blade free, drawing a quick inhale when she realized what she was looking at. "This is Valyrian steel." She spoke reverently as she ran her finger over the curve of the blade just shy of cutting herself.

"It is. And it's yours." He told her in the monotone she was becoming familiar with.

"What?" She stated, tearing her eyes from the red ripples to questioned him in disbelief. "Why?"

"It will be of more use to you than to me." He replied.

"It could be of some use to you. You should always carry a knife, anyway."

"A knife is useless to a cripple." He told her simply, as though it hadn't once been his greatest dream to be a Knight. He continued. "This is the knife that was meant to end my life. Now I want you to have it."

She frowned at him as she asked, "How did you come by this blade?"

"Petyr Baelish gave it to me."

"Baelish? What's he got to do with anything?"

"He's married to Aunt Lisa now. He's Lord of the Vale."

"What?!"

"It matters not. Keep the blade close, I bid of you."

"Alight." Arya finally agreed, re-sheathing it and hooking it to her own belt hidden under her cloak. "Thank you." She felt a wave of tiredness come over her and her arms were heavy from a long days work. "I think I shall retire for the night. If you'll pardon me, I wish you all pleasant dreams." She excused herself, standing.

Robb stood at her words. "I'll accompany you back to the keep."

"No, that's all right." She denied, stepping back, suddenly feeling even more disconnected from her family than she had been, despite her words. Jon was the one she still felt the closest to, even if she hadn't seen him much since arriving back home. That he wasn't even her brother.. it felt a hollow ache in her chest, even knowing he was still her cousin. "I'd actually like a few minutes to clear my head, if you don't mind. I will see you in the morn."

"Alright.." He agreed reluctantly, settling back across from his brothers. "Pleasant dreams, then." He bid, echoed similarly by the other two. She took her leave, grateful for the fold breeze hitting her as she exited the stuffy tent.

She truly did retire back to her room. She tried to go to sleep, but even in the more agreeable nest she'd made for herself beside the fire, she found she couldn't quite drift off. She felt as if something was going to happen and it left her feeling twitchy and on edge. Some time mid-night she gave up in her attempts and rose. She had her boots on her feet and her cloak around her shoulders in an instant and was out the door without a whisper of sound.

There were far too many well-trained guards in the family halls now a days for her to be truly comfortable anyway, but it was worse that night. She wasn't sure if it had been that way for years,, or if the numbers had increased with the influx of outsiders gracing their halls, but it was a change from her youth undoubtedly. As such, she made her way to the main area and then out into the courtyard as quickly as she could without appearing to rush.

Once outside, she found herself at something of a loss. She allowed her feet to wander forward without any real direction and she soon found herself passing through the gates and into view of the fields and fields of soldiers. Faced with the decision of left or right, the right was far easier. She continued on until the red banners were overhead and the familiar layout sprawled before her.

She didn't see Jaime, Bronn or Tywin, but she did spot Samurel further down the chain of lowly burning fires, playing dice with his brother and some of the Lannister soldiers. She made her way closer until they noticed her approach and greeted her cheerfully. They offered her to join them and she did so with a small smile, seeing no reason not to. She still had a few coins tucked into a hidden pocket sewn into the inside of her boot but it was too little to really spend on anything meaningful- a meal or two, perhaps, at an inn, but she could replenish it easily enough if need be.

The game they played was one she had dabbled with before, and involved cards and a bit of strategy as well as dice. They continued their conversations as they had been-the words and stories typical to most soldiers- and thought they weren't things typically spoken of in front of a High-Born Lady, she was familiar enough and fit well enough that they no longer censored their behavior nor their language around her. She observed them while they finished their current round and then joined them at the start of the next, feeling slightly better for the distraction, though still on edge.

She'd been with them less than an hour- and had more than tripled her money- when she heard footsteps approaching from behind herself. She glanced over her shoulder to find a familiar face frowning at her lightly as he came closer. He stopped several steps away and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword in a resting pose she'd seen him take many times before. She turned away and refocused her attention on the game, playing through until the end of the match.

Collecting her winnings, she bid them good night and rose to join the blond man she knew still stood behind her, even if she hadn't looked back at him again. She met his eyes as she approached him and cocked a brow in question. He tilted his head back towards the head of the army and then began walking.

She fell into step with him, though he kept his silence until they were a bit beyond the farthest tent and likely out of hearing range of anyone, if not yet out of sight. "What's wrong?" She asked, frowning up at him.

He shook his head slightly. "Why are you here this late? You should be resting within the keep."

"I couldn't sleep." She told him, feeling a surge of defensiveness try to tighten her shoulders. She forced it away through sheer habit and then asked, "Is there a problem with me being here? I thought myself welcome."

"Of course you're welcome." He said, backtracking slightly, tone lighter. "But the sun is closer to rising than setting. I'm not sure your family would be happy to know you were gambling unaccompanied with Lannister men so late in the night."

"My family's opinions don't hold much sway with me at this point in time. I was not aware it did with you either."

"I only worry for how it will affect you."

"That's kind, but unnecessary. I will handle my family in my own way, you need waste not time in worrying about their opinions."

"And what of the opinions of my father? Should we disregard those as well?" He asked, tone dripping with acerbity.

"I do not claim know the opinions of your father." She rebutted.

"His opinion on the matter is that your reputation remained untarnished amongst us. He's not told me more, but I'm sure he is scheming about something or other. He always is. Still, he made me agree not to do _anything_ that would bring your honor into question."

"Is that what he told you the morn after we fell asleep together?" She asked shrewdly. He looked almost embarrassed as he nodded and she wondered what else might have been said that he obviously wasn't going to share. "If Tywin has some plan that that requires me to fall into line, he should discuss it with me directly. I'm not fond of hidden mutterings nor these types of games."

"Nor I, but you should know by now that it's simply how my father's mind works."

"All the same, there is nothing shameful in my being in the presence of men to do something as mundane as playing dice."

"That's not the opinion shared by all and you know it." He reminded her pointedly.

She knew he was right but she wasn't likely to admit it. Instead she responded "None of that changes the fact that I can't sleep and I refuse to be driven out of my mind in my room simply because some may consider it the proper thing for me to do."

"Gods your quarrelsome tonight." He spoke, tone edging towards frustration.

She almost crossed her arms but she refused to give in to the expressive gesture. "Spar with me then." She challenged.

"Isn't that what we're already doing?" He remarked wryly.

"Har har. Seriously though, spar with me. We could both use the outlet." Her tone was slightly more appealing as she finished, peering up at him earnestly. Perhaps she would burn enough energy to be able to rest afterwards.

"What, here?" He questioned, looking around a bit incredulously.

"Well, no, not right here. We can go into the courtyard. The walls and snow will muffle the sound, but there'll be a guard or two posted in sight that can verify our lack of indecency, since you're so concerned for the opinions of others on the matter."

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her ending jab before giving in and turning towards the entrance to the courtyard. The moon was shrinking, but was still large enough to illuminate the ground by reflecting off the abundant cover of snow. She didn't waste any time once they were in place, drawing her blade and going on the offensive immediately- before he'd even had the chance to wrap his fingers around his own weapon. He still managed to draw and parry her- he wasn't considered one of the best knights in the realm for naught, after all- and then return her strike with one of his own.

They traded blows and danced around each other in circles and spins for what felt like an hour. They both eventually began to grow tired and sweat beaded their flesh despite the freezing chill and occasional flurry of snowfall. Arya was pressing him back and he'd come to the edge of the courtyard, under the wooden deck frame that held the walk above. It left them essentially hidden from sight of the guards they had indeed spotted upon their arrival.

Their blades were still crossed, each of them panting thick clouds of white breath into the air between them. Their hearts were pounding equally hard from the prolonged exertion and their adrenaline was flowing from the close calls with live blades. They both tentatively lightened the force behind their holds until they felt that the other wouldn't inadvertently overpower their withdrawal and cause an accidental injury.

Arya didn't move back, even as she lowered her blade to hang loose at her side. She found herself remembering the kisses they'd shared before and her eyes found his lip covered in a layer of scruff from nearly a full day and night's growth. He seemed to sense the turn in her thoughts for he shook his head at her with a brow raised almost warningly.

His free hand came up to rest against her shoulder, intending to push her a step away from where she was almost pressed against his front. She ignored the weak attempt to resist and stood on the tips of her toes for a couple of inches of added height to press her lips against his for only the second time. His eyes clenched in what could have been resignation before his left hand came up to cup the back of her head, his own sword arm also held akimbo so that he blade remained pointed away from them as he gave in and returned her embrace.

It only last a handful of heartbeats before he stopped himself and pulled back forcefully. "No." He denied weakly despite how firmly he'd leaned back. "We can't do this, _especially_ not here." He continued in a harsh whisper.

"Especially not _here_?" She repeated back at him coyly. "Somewhere else then? Where shall we go then?"

"We're not going _anywhere_ else." He denied, looking down at her sternly. "Arya, we _just_ talked about this."

"No we didn't," She argued, voice lowering close to a whisper. "We talked about my dicing with Lannister Soldiers. We didn't talk about my.. _interactions_, with you."

"I am a Lannister Soldier, least you forget."

"You're a Lannister Son, that's not the same thing."

"Still so contrary?"

"So shut me up." She dared him.

He sighed through his nose in helplessly desirous despair as she continued to tempt him before he mentally saying to hell with it and spinning them around so that _she_ was the one pressed back against the wall and pinned where he wanted her.

He took less than a second during the motion to sheath his sword, watching as she did the same. He used one arm to wrap around her waist and the other to bury in the back of her hair as he kissed her for all he was worth right there in the shadows of the night and their position.

He pulled back slightly so that he was able to talk in short bursts between the presses of their lips. "We've.. been.. out've.. sight.. too long.." He managed. "Someone's.. bound to get.. suspicious."

"I don't care." She replied, her own arms having wrapped around his neck at some point, holding them closer together despite their differences in height. Their lips met again and again, the space between them shrinking to impossibly less. He grew tired of bowing over and so lifted her quite sudden from her feet to press back harder against the wall.

She let out a gasp at the motion and the new angle in which his body molded against her own, bringing her legs up to wrap around his waist for better stability and leverage. Finally at equal height, the exchange grew even more heated.

Footsteps on the wood above became audible from the direction of one of the guards stations and the both pulled back at the same time, glancing up to ensure they were still out of sight. Jaime set her back to her feet silently and they quickly separated, their inappropriateness of their location once again becoming apparent.

They took half a moment to righten their mussed clothes and then stepped casually back out into the open with a shared glance of agreement. Arya accompanied him across the yard and to the gates so they'd be completely out of hearing range and then they both paused.

Arya glanced up at him, disappointed that they'd had to part so quickly after the fighting ended. Her blood was still up and she wouldn't have minded continuing on in the least, but his own expression clearly showcased that he wouldn't be distracted again just then. "Thank you for the spar." She told him instead, meaning it.

"Anytime." He replied. "There're few who can keep up with me nearly so well or for so long." He continued honestly.

Her lips curled in pleasure and she nodded slightly just once. "Good morrow, Jaime." She said softly.

"Good morrow, Arya." He replied just as quietly, glancing down at her swollen and reddened lips, and wishing they weren't in such clear sight. He turned and walked away instead of giving once more into temptation and instead refused to look back as she left her, until he was once more enclosed in the relative privacy of his tent, alone as was typical for him.

Arya watched him until he disappeared into the distance, lips tingling and a heat between her legs and that growing more and more familiar to her. She wondered what might have happened if the guard hadn't come to investigate what had happened to them. She wondered what might have happened if Jaime hadn't pulled away from her at the hot spring..

She'd never been overly interested in men or sex before- she'd of course had a clinical interest when she'd spent time in flea bottom and later when she'd been assigned to a Braavosi brothel for several weeks to observe the courtesans and clients alike. Still, she knew there was nothing to be done for it in under such watchful eyes- eyes who would undoubtedly report their findings back to her family, she knew as she turned around and saw one of Robbs men watching her from his position above where they had hidden. He was clearly the source of the footsteps that had split them, but she refused to pay him any further mind as she dropped her eyes and made her way back indoors.

As she stepped back into the warmer air of the keep, the hair on the back of her neck prickled and the calm she had managed to obtain began to drain away like sand in an hourglass. Her brows furrowed as she glanced around in suspicion- she'd long ago learned that it was better to be overly cautious than underly.

Not seeing anything, she silently began to make her way back through the halls until she reached the family wing. She should have felt better once she arrived to see the same guard standing at attention in even intervals at each door lining the hall. She didn't.

Her sense of trepidation grew as she approached her door, until she almost wanted to turn around and return to the ease of being outside and away from (most) people. She refused to give into such childish notions or fears however, and so pressed forward regardless.

She opened her own door just slightly slower than average, so as to give her a bit of extra time to search for and assess potential threats. She didn't see anything at first and so she entered more fully, grateful that her someone had tended to her fire and kept it burning despite her absence in her room.

She didn't notice him at first- didn't notice anyone or anything out of the unusual aside from how on edge she felt. It wasn't until she closed the door behind herself that she saw the shadow move.

_To be continued_

Notes:

Wow! So much interest in this story! Thank you all so much for reading, and especially to those who have commented/reviewed or left kudos/favorites! I've pretty well settled on three possible ways this might end, and it depends on how they close out the last couple of episode. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you thought!

PS. Happy (early) Mothers day to all of you mama's out there! :)


	11. Chapter 11

he didn't notice him at first- didn't notice anyone or anything out of the unusual aside from how on edge she felt. It wasn't until she closed the door behind herself that she saw the shadow move.

Her hand was already hovering near her new dagger and so it was easy for her to draw as she peered deeper into the shadow, trying to make out who it might be. "A girl is worried." A familiar, accented, voice came from the darkness.

She stopped in shock, unsure what she should say in response. She had wondered if they would truly allow her to leave unchecked, but she'd hoped they would wait to find her until after the battle had happened. She wondered why he was there specifically- Did he come to bring her back into the fold? Did he come to punish her for running from her duty? Did he come to give her the gift so that she may not ever share the Order's secrets with outsiders?

He stepped forward and she could finally make out his face. He looked as blank and serene as he ever did and it gave nothing away for her to know his thoughts. She pulled on every skill she had in her considerable arsenal to blank her own face in turn, knowing she was likely giving far too much away already. "Jaqen." She greeted simply.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement but did not speak immediately. His ever watchful eyes scanned for closely and he considered her for several long seconds. A bit of Arya wanted to speak, if only to break the tense silence, but she held her words stubbornly back. She'd long since learned better to speak when he looked at her in such a penetrating way. "Where you expecting me?" He finally murmured, accented voice bringing an unexpected flair of nostalgia.

"I was expecting something."

"Are you surprised?" He sounded curious. Perhaps he wondered if she kept her tightly honed observation skills in use after her departure, for it almost seemed as though he was testing her responses.

"No." She told him honestly. "I wondered if someone might come, and you were one of several names I considered.

"And how do you feel now at knowing it's me?"

"I'm not sure, yet. I suppose that will depend on why you're here."

He paused to her thoughtfully once again, seemingly able to read every nuance of her expression as he'd always been able to do, no matter how blank she thought her face to be. "A name has been given." He told her after a silence.

"My name?"

"No." He told her with a head tilt. "But one once oft upon your lips."

Her expression edged towards curiosity despite herself and she stopped herself from stepping closer. "Which name?" She prompted when he didn't continue on his own.

He hummed. "I'm not yet sure if it's your concern. It's not every day a man's apprentice flees her assignment and disappears without a word. A girl has toed a very fine line in what is allowable. She is lucky she did not stumble any further than she did."

Arya bowed her head in acknowledgement, knowing she had nothing to argue against and knowing she deserved whatever was to come of his presence and line of questioning. She held hope her life wouldn't be given that night, but if it was, she at least knew she'd had an effect on the war effort, if she wasn't able to offer her own blade as well. She spent some time visiting men and women from all parts of the world and would often manage to lead them into conversation in which she could try and soften them towards whichever of their allies they were the least fond of for some reason or other.

It often seemed tedious and pointless, standing for an hour or more in conversation when she'd rather be anywhere else, but when she'd seen Smalljon having a pleasant conversation with one of the Lannister men- a feat that had seen impossible from the Smalljon's less than quiet grumbles on the subject- she'd know the words she spent hours carefully combing over and crafting had paid off.

She knew the greatest threat to their army was unrest between the previously waring factions, and sometimes she felt as though she was the only one who understand just how doomed they would be if the fell to fighting amongst themselves if the wrong words were uttered around the wrong ears. She had done what she could to sew seeds of comradery, however much it had pained her, and she was willing to accept whatever fate might now await.

She was curious enough on one point to finally break the lingering silence. "If I might ask- The Lady Crane?" She questioned, tone carefully light.

"Taken care of."

Her head bowed slightly further before rising in a nod. "I am sorry for abandoning my duties." She told him remorsefully. "I wish it hadn't come to that."

"Why did it? What could cause a girl to give up so suddenly on something she worked so hard for, for so long?"

Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip before she could quell the nervous tick. "Have you heard the stories of what is happening here in the North?" She asked him first, knowing he must have but needing him to acknowledge it. The stories were quite odd, after all. He tilted his head again, this time in acknowledgement. "It's all true. An army of dead men march on the wall, the North, the South, _and_ Dorne have all come to together in an alliance that hasn't occurred for more than three hundred years. This- what's happening here- it's bigger than me, bigger than what I want. I _have_ to be here, no matter how much I may wish it otherwise. My family needs me." She told him, despite knowing she was supposed to have shed her identity, despite knowing she was admitting to her own failures.

"And what will a girl do once the war is done?" He continued relentlessly, though his tone never shifted from it's normal accented drawl. "Does she plan to return to the House of Black and White and her swear herself to our God, or does she plan to remain here and forever be known as Arya?'"

She blinked, but answered without allowing herself to hesitate. "A girl doesn't know yet." She further admitted. "I haven't thought of what comes next, my focus has been on helping the world survive the coming night. Jaqen, if we can't stop them and their army continues to grow, they'll overtake all of Westeros eventually. I can't predict what is going to happen or spare time to consider the possibilities. All's I can do is now is focus on the present and what we can do to increase our chances of surviving this. There's so many questions, there's so much I still don't know right now."

"Indecision is more of a death sentence than a bad decision. Still, a girl is right in one thing- An army of dead men seems something that needs dealt with, if the stories are indeed spoken true."

"I'm glad we agree on that point at least." She paused, before continuing in a tone that most people wouldn't notice had changed just slightly- quieted, in a way. "What would happen if I _didn't_ return to the House?" She queried, doing her damnedest not to show how on edge asking that question left her, but always preferring to know than to not.

He shrugged lightly, not giving any of his own thought's away just yet. She thought he might have appeared disappointed for the slightest of moments, but it disappeared before she could be sure. "That will depend on a girl, on a man.. on many things." He told her. "On occasion, there are Faceless men who live outside of the House of Black and White for some reason or another. Most of us live outside for years at a time whilst on assignment, but there are some who live outside from the completion of their training until Death take them. Valar Dohaeris, but the ways in which men may serve are many."

"What does that mean for me?" She asked, forcing her body to remain still.

"It may mean nothing or it may mean everything. A man is not yet certain."

He didn't outright ask if that was still sure in her devotion, but his open suggestion clearly showcased his desire for a more firm stance than she'd given thus far. It was his right, she supposed, he'd done so much for her. If anyone deserved her honesty, it was him. She finally stepped closer, moving past him and showing her back without worry while she shed her cloak and sword in the warm room.

Jaqen continued to observe her as she turned back to him and moved to the small table situated in the room, gesturing him in an offer to join her. He did so silently, stormy eyes flashing with his curiosity as he waited serenely for her to speak. "My faith has not wavered," She told him after gathering her thoughts and deciding what she wanted to say, what she had once most wished he could have heard. "and my life still belongs to He of Many Faces, though I owe it to you. You have my loyalty, and my gratitude, and you will continue to hold it for the remainder of my life, however quickly and it whichever manner it may come to an end.. But.. This is my family, these are my people and our lands.. I'm a Stark of Winterfell, I owe myself to them as well, however much I may resist the idea. Now that I've returned for a time, I'm not sure I'll be able to leave the country again as I did before, even if we manage to survive this. I don't.. You shouldn't expect me to return, and you deserve to know that, whatever may come of it."

"I had suspected as much." He replied, seeing that she was done. "Do you still desire association with our Order, or do you wish to live out your life in anonymity?"

"I owe everything I am to the Order, to you." She told him honestly. "I would hold onto any piece of it that I'm able. As it stands, I'm feeling something of a sense of loss at the thought of returning so completely to the isolated life I led before. What would it be like to be one who is allowed to live outside the House?"

He shrugged lightly, almost careless. "That can vary by the day. Usually, if a name is given near an Outlier, the assignment is given to them by raven and they carry out the deed without anyone needing be sent. Occasionally other tasks are given. It's not typically a common occurrence."

"That sound's.. reasonable." She commented thoughtfully, considering it.

"Entirely." He drawled.

She studied him, wondering at his motivation. She'd expected a much harsher reception from him, and she wasn't usually so far off in her expectations. "Have you been in Winterfell very long?" She questioned. With how slowly the army had traveled, it would have been well within the realm of possibility for the Faceless to beat her to her destination.

"A man has and he has not."

"Where have you been when you have not?"

His lips curled and he seemed pleased with her observations. "Only where it was necessary to go." He told her cryptically.

"What will you do now?" She shifted her question, recognizing she wouldn't get any more information from him than what she had already on that topic.

"A man will be near for a time."

Bronn besieged him without notice the next morn were Jaime sat alone beside the frontmost fire. The blond glanced across at him in acknowledgement but didn't move to speak. The silence apparently wasn't meant to last, because Bronn spoke sooner and on a subject he didn't anticipate before he was prepared for it. "So where'd you two lovebirds sneak off to in the night?" He asked slyly.

Jaime glanced at him again, sharper than before. "What do you mean by that?" He questioned sternly.

"Saw you."

"You saw me what?" Jaime asked, growing exasperated at dealing with his grating personality so early in the morn.

"Leave came with the girl late last night- later than most decent folk are up and about. The one you wouldn't mind fuckin'."

Jaime shushed him harshly and glanced around to endure none were close enough to have heard him. "We just spared." He told him, glaring. "In full sight of the Northern guards, mind you- absolutely nothing to get worked up over."

"Humm." Bronn hummed doubtfully. "Don't see many men with the look you've got on this early in the morn after a night of simple sparing."

Jaime considered, just for a moment, confiding in the man who'd become something of a true friend to him. That one moment of indecision was apparently legible on his face, for Bronn's own expression grew shocked. "No! You didn't, truly?"

"No!" Jaime exclaimed, barely remembering to keep his voice muted. "I didn't."

"You did something." Bronn told him, tone certain and challenging.

"I-"

"Hah! You did! What did you do?"

"Would you keep you fucking voice down?" Jaime told him harshly. Bronn remained silent, lips puckered and brown pointedly raised as he waited for him to continue. "I didn't- we just, we truly did spar." He finished, weaker.

"And after your spar?" The brunette pressed astutely.

"And after… We may've.. had a bit of an exchange."

"An exchange. The fuck does that mean?"

"Why are you so damned curious anyway?"

"I live vicariously though you and your golden cock, as always."

Jaime scowled at him only to receive a narrowed eyed look in turn. "We.. might've kissed, a time or two." He admitted.

"'You kissed?'" He repeated, deadpanned. "That's it? You just kissed and then, what? Went about our business? What are you, a blushing boy of ten?"

"Har Har." He mocked the sellsword for the slight. "You're so funny I don't know how you even stand to live in your own head."

"I don't know how you live with yourself. You managed to get close enough to that dangerous little beast to kiss 'er and then you didn't even bother to do anything actually _worthwhile_? I have to admit, I'm honestly a bit disappointed in you."

"However will I survive, knowing I've caused you such disappointment?"

"I'm sure you'll manage somehow. How did this little exchange come about, anyway?" Bronn asked then, truly curious.

"That's none of your business. I've said all I'm willing to say on the matter."

"Really? You've hardly said anything at all!" The sellsword complained halfheartedly, but he already knew the blond was resolute from the stubborn expression that had overtaken his handsome features. "Oh fine," he sighed. "What say you we go find a drink to warm our bellies?"

"Aye, alright." Jaime agreed and rose to his feet. Nothing further was said on the matter that night, though there were still questions hovering heavily unasked in the air.

_To be continued_

Notes:

Sheepish hello? I'm sorry to have vanished for a month? I'm sorry for the disgustingly short chapter? To be honest, the last two episodes disgusted me enough to completely knock me out of my groove in writing this fic. I'm not sure why.. It'll actually play very well into one of the endings I was leaning towards for the War of Five Kings, though parts of it will be pretty different.

I normally wouldn't post this short of a chapter on this story, but I wanted to let you all know I'm trying to get back into it and to thank those of you who are hanging in there. I do have about.. seven or so… plot points I still plan to hit, so don't fear it'll suddenly end in a chapter or two. I had been thinking I was at about the half-way point and planned to break 100,000 words. With my lack of drive, I'm not sure I'll make it to that point, but I promise I'll finish the main storyline and the key side stories I have planned. I also can't promise quick updates at this point. I won't force myself to write when I'm not feeling it or it comes out clunky and terrible, so please be patient with me.

Thank you for all of the wonderful feedback I've received so far- you all are the reason I just keep swimming ;)


	12. Chapter 12

Three days passed by in a similar manner. Arya took the morning and evening meal with her family and their honored guests whilst she continued to take her midday meal with the men digging the trenches beside her.

Jaime was kept back by his father on the third day and so she slipped out through the shadows on her own that morning. She took her place in the line that had progressed quite far in such a short amount of time. She didn't pay attention to who took the place to her right that Jaime had occupied up until then. She didn't notice him, if fact, until some hours later when she twisted her body to help toss the loosened, though still frozen, soil out of the deepening trench and caught a glimpse of him out the corner of her eye.

It was Jaqen, digging beside her with the same single-minded determination she herself had been using to ignore the burn in her palms where the rough wood had rubbed raw spots, and the tired ache in her arms and back form the repetitive motion. She had quickly come to realize that not even she was used to continuous motion from near sunup to sundown, coming up on three full days without rest except come night.

She didn't let on that she had noticed him. They didn't speak when they broke for lunch, or even once a bell finally rang to signal that it was time to quit for the day. Arya didn't move to pull herself out of the deep score in the land, but rather remained standing until they were fully alone and the voices above had faded into the distance and then disappeared completely. She finally turned to face him to find him already studying her with an expressionless face.

"A girl still shows dedication." He stated calmly and then paused. She knew he didn't require or want a response and so she kept her silence until he continued. "It is good to know time has not softened your will nor your stubbornness." He continued in more of a mummer, not using his normal term of address and catching her attention more fully than anything else could have. "You will need to hold those close should you choose to accept a Man's offer."

"What sort of an offer?" She questioned quietly when he did not continue. She felt blood drip down her palm from one of the deeper sores and he curled her palm to keep it from dripping onto the ground below- it was an old habit, one taught to her by the man standing before her, the habit to never leave a sign that you had been there behind if you could easily prevent it.

"A test. To show a man whether or not a girl still truly desires to serve the Many-Faced God." He told her, reverting to his normal way of speaking. Still, she knew such a shift did not erase the seriousness of the conversation he'd already displayed, and so did not waver in her focus of him.

Even so, she felt her heart jump beneath her breast and had to maintain control of her expression. "What sort of test?" She questioned again, even quieter.

"A name has been given. The brother who sought this name before perished in the Red Waste."

Essos, she thought to herself as her heart sank right back down. "I cannot travel to the Red Waste right now. I can't leave Winterfell, not before this battle is won." She told him honestly, a little surprised herself at the amount of disappointment she felt.

"This person is no longer in the Red Waste- nor in Essos as a whole." He told her, seeming to read the thoughts straight from her mind. "They are much nearer than a girl can imagine. Will a girl accept this test? Or shall a man gift this name to the Many-Faced God with his own hands?"

"A girl accepts. Whose name has been given?" She told him with no further, visible, hesitation.

The corner of his lip pulled into a familiar curl and she could tell that he was pleased. "Daenerys Targaryen." He told calmly as he observed her face for a show of emotions. Her brows furrowed slightly, for a Queen surrounded by armies of men was more than anything she could have imagined. Her mind immediately began to race with plans and ideas as she thought it through. Though not a name she had expected to hear, it made sense that the Faceless Men would have been called in for such a person.

Her thoughts were interrupted suddenly when he unexpectedly continued. "The price for her name ways paid more than four years ago by a man named Petyr Baelish at the behest of King Robert Baratheon. The price was for herself and her child both, but her child perished at the hands of a witch her people had taken as a slave- the same witch who was responsible for taking the life of her husband."

Arya looked at him for a long moment before she responded. "Why are you telling me this? I've never been given any information beyond the name itself before."

"A Man wants a Girl to take this test knowing all of the facts, so that there may be not lingering questions as to whether or not the test was carried out due to dedication to our ways or ignorance that will lead to regret."

"I did not leave because I regret." She told him, catching the deeper meaning behind his words. "I left because I had to. I left because I could no longer allow myself to be selfish and take the path I desired over the obligations left over from my past."

He nodded his head in acknowledgement but did not address her words just then. "Does a girl have any questions? If so, let them be answered now."

Arya resisted the urge to bite her lip and considered what questions she truly had. In the beginning, she'd had many. She had fewer as time passed- partially due to finding the answers on her own and partially due to the knowledge and acceptance that not all answers where hers to know. "King Robert is dead." She spoke finally. "If the Faceless Man hunting her is dead already, as is the man who named her to begin with, there lies two lives in exchange for her own. Why does that not settle the debt?

"It is not to us to know when a debt is settled. A name was given, a price was paid, and we will continue to do our jobs until the one named meets Death."

Her head bowed slightly in a nod of acceptance. "The Queen is important to the war efforts here. We won't be able to win without her soldiers and her dragons." She said next, no further questions coming to her tongue save for her timeline.

"Death in certain, the time is not." He stated, repeating the words he had spoken to her so long ago in Harrenahal.

Though he didn't explicitly say it, the permission to wait until after the battle to claim her name was clear to her in the words spoken. Her chest lightened but she still felt at a loose end. "What would you have me do in the meantime?"

"A girl who was so determined to remain Arya Stark should be Arya Stark, now that she has the opportunity."

"A girl has spent so much time trying not to be, she's not sure she remembers how." She confided in him quietly.

He studied her for another long moment before he replied. "Arya Stark is not someone a girl needs to remember how to be. People change, experiences shape us, we naturally evolve over the years. There is nothing wrong in that. A girl does not need become Arya, Arya is a girl, however different of a girl she might have become over the years."

"That's not what you said at the House."

"A girl had a different goal, then." He told her as if it were that simple. "And now things have changed."

"Will you stay in Winterfell?" She asked after a thoughtful moment of quiet. "Until a name is given? Even if it takes months?"

"That is not certain. A man is here now- that too might change. Only time can tell."

"Will I see you here again?"

The corner of his mouth tugged up again. "Well now, that is up to a girl- has she still the skill to see a man when he does not wish to be seen?" It was a challenge she knew, mayhap another test entirely. He continued before she could formulate a response. "A girl is missed. She should return to her family."

Arya glanced in the direction she knew the keep to be, though she couldn't see it over the deep trench walls. She nodded in agreement, knowing it was likely true. She turned away from him and moved closer to the wall. She jumped slightly so she could grab the top and levered herself over the edge. It was only once she was standing on the flat edge that she glanced back down. "Thank you, Jaqen." She uttered softly before turning and beginning to trek back to the gates, surrounded by darkness and silence.

It was full dark when she finally arrived back in the keep and, though she knew she still had time to join her family and their guests for part of the evening meal, she was filthy and smelt of a disgusting combination of mud and stale, frozen sweat. Thus, instead of seeking food, she headed directly to her room to find the hand maiden waiting outside her door as expected. She was pleased to see the woman for a change and sent her immediately off to fetch hot water for a bath.

She entered her room and wandered over to the window while she waited, thinking back over what had just happened. Her mind moved to the insurmountable task before them- a task of which the woman named could mean victory or defeat and could determine whether or not her family survived the coming battle.

It seemed somewhat twisted to be plotting the death of the woman so near to her own age in the wake of such an unbelievable victory, but the Many-Faced God had already been waiting years. She knew the House would want to make good on the transaction as soon as possible and that they wouldn't tolerate her delaying any further than was absolutely required.

Not that she necessarily wanted to delay such a thing anyway. The woman who held such delicate fragility in her features was anything but gentle in her own right. No, in truth she was cold and bloodthirsty, as she'd already proven despite her young age. Arya had been hearing whispers about the Targaryen madness returned to the world once more for quite some time now.

She wondered if her family knew of some of the things this woman had done in her conquest- of the cobblestoned streets stained red in her wake, of the innocents slain indiscriminately along with the guilty- for if they didn't wear a collar themselves, they were just as guilty as the slavers in the Dragon Queens mind- of the children she'd allowed her dragons to feed on along with the goats, of the men she'd burned without mercy… She wondered if her brother knew, as seemingly smitten as Jon was with the blood thirsty woman.

She wondered if he would be upset once she was dead. Oh, she wasn't worried that he would be upset with her, for she was far too good at what she did to be found out unless she wanted to be. No, she wondered how upset he would be with her death in general. She wondered if she would feel guilty when the time came for causing him that pain, but she did not yet know the answer.

Instead, she turned her mind back to the parts that made sense to her. She would have to use the utmost caution to be successful in this task. She would have to be discreet and leave no evidence behind that could possibly lead back to her. It couldn't be bold or outright, she would have to have a plan and several backups for good measure.

Her best bet would be to use a natural remedy to bring about the Queens death in a way that would appear as if she had caught some illness, or have a wound fester if she was lucky enough for the woman to become injured at some point in the future. She would have to rebuild her supplies, for she hadn't brought much in the way of poisons or tonics from the house and so she would have to start from the beginning. It would be easier now that she had her pack to use.

She heard the maids finish and depart- she had made in clear in the beginning that she did not require assistance to bathe- and so she moved to latch the door locked so no one could intrude and then stripped on her way back to the sizeable tub. Her mind continued to twist and churn as she stepped into the hot water and then lowered herself without allowing time to adjust to the temperature, sinking down and down until she was fully submerged and the sounds of the keep became muffled beneath the waters weight.

The next morning, she rose early and made her way to the armory to find a bow to practice with. It had been some time since she'd been able to practice and she wanted to make sure her skill remained honed before attempting one of the things on her list. She spent a good hour practicing with the targets before she was satisfied enough to head inside to break her fast.

Her cheeks were rosy from the cold when she arrived and it was clear that she was coming inside and not from her room. She could see the disapproval on her mother's face, but what for she wasn't sure this time. "Good morrow." She greeted the room politely as she took her seat and began filling her plate from the meager but hearty offerings laid out before them.

"We missed seeing you yesterday." Sansa spoke after her greeting was returned.

"You saw me for breakfast yesterday." Arya reminded her sister.

"Yes, but not all day or for supper."

"I was not hungry." She replied easily. "I retired early."

Her mother cleared her throat and they cut their conversation in a manner very similar to when they were children. The rest of the meal passed by with sometime tense conversation to be had on occasion. When the meal was over, Catelyn asked for her presence before she could escape the room. Robb and Sansa remained as well, though everyone else took their leave without comment.

"Would you care to tell us where you have been spending your days?" Catelyn asked once they were alone.

She thought briefly of not answering truthfully but decided it wasn't worth the effort. "I have spent my days in the trenches, preparing for the battle." She told them instead.

They seemed surprised by her easy response but her mother still frowned. "The trenches are no place for a Lady. There are plenty of men to do the digging without you having to strain yourself as well."

"It was not a strain. I wanted to do my part." She responded calmly.

"Alone?" Sansa asked from beside their mother, tone pointed.

"I'm hardly alone when surrounded by our men."

"Not just our men."

"Could we stop with the pretense and talk about what you have actually brought me here for?" Arya asked, starting to become annoyed.

"The same could be said to you." Sansa returned. "You know of whom I speak."

Arya smiled coldly at her elder sister. "Jaime was not with me yesterday, he remained in the Lannister camps."

"And before that?"

"We've spent much time together. We traveled the Kingsroad together, if you've forgotten."

"It's not proper for you to spend time alone with a man.. Especially one of his.. repute."

"We haven't been alone." Arya defended, which was only a small lie. "You need not worry for my virtue."

Catelyn cleared her throat, drawing all their attention. "Yes, your virtue. I trust it is still intact?" The woman asked, only sounding slightly uncomfortable.

Arya froze deeper from her already still stance. "The state of my virtue is hardly your concern, Mother. Again, I am a woman grown."

"You are a betrothed woman, and the state of your virtue matters to all involved."

Arya's lips twisted as she fought to contain her scowl. She kept her silence, choosing not to respond rather than say something that would likely offend or upset the woman who was already flushed in the face with her own heightened temper. "Lord Walder has requested you be checked by a Maester to ensure your purity is still intact." Catelyn continued more delicately. "He wishes to proceed with the wedding within the fortnight."

"And when did Lord Walder make this request?" She asked coldly.

"This morn, by raven."

"And if I decline?"

"You do not have an option to decline. He has the right to make such a request under the old rites."

"And if I am not pure?"

Catelyn's face paled and became blotchy at the points the blood still simmered beneath the surface. Her lips pressed tightly together. "Lord Walder has stated an impure bride is not worthy of his better sons. He did not specify just what he meant by that but I don't imagine it to be anything good."

"And yet you would still give me to him?" Arya asked curiously, tilting her head.

"The deal has already been made, Arya, there is nothing we can do."

"No… There's nothing you can do. Do not worry, Mother, I will take care of myself, as I always do." She told the woman and turned to leave despite the voice demanding her back. She had things she wanted to do this day and it did not include some wrinkly old Masters fingers examine her womanhood.

The day ended up being productive, despite its rough beginning. She was able to find several of the herbs and plants she needed to add to her pack and she had them rolled carefully into a pocket so that she could dry and process them once she was back in her room. She'd made her way to the kitchens to gather a couple of components from there as well, and back to the armory for a reserve of oil to use for her tonics.

She visited the Lannister camp and had another match of Cyvasse with Tywin, where she confided in the man that she was to be married within the coming weeks. The Lord already seemed to know, for his face scarcely twitched as he considered his move. He didn't respond until he took his turn and she was considering her own move. "And here I thought you already took care of that."

"How did you hear that?" She asked, peering up at him to see an unimpressed expression staring back at her. "Right.. I will take care of it. I won't let him win."

"And what if you had another option?" He asked her seriously.

"What do you mean?" She questioned back as she moved her own piece.

"An option that did not require you going to war with the old Frey. You've already laid the groundwork- shown how difficult and unfitting you are. It's likely only his stubbornness and desire to have a Stark woman in his house that continues to drive him."

"What sort of option would force him away without a fight?"

"As with all men, Money tends to be very compelling."

"Why would we give him money?" She asked, confused.

"I could, potentially, buy out his contract."

"I still don't understand." Though she thought she was beginning to.

He gave her a look but explained anyway. "I could pay off the debt your family has to his in exchange for control over your marriage contract."

"Why would you want control over my marriage contract?" She asked, even quieter, equal parts eager and dreading to hear what he might say in response.

"I want you as my good-daughter." He told her bluntly, as was his way. "You would marry Jaime, give him an heir of his own and one day help him rule over Casterly Rock. You would remain loyal to him, guide him in his stubbornness, and watch out for the wellbeing of the Lannister name once I am unable to do so myself."

She drew in a sharp breath- it was one thing to suspect such a plan, but quite another to hear it spelled out so definitely. "Jaime is in the Kingsguard, he cannot marry." She told him weakly.

"That can be corrected, should you do your part in convincing him to give it up. It is only his stubbornness that keeps him there."

"What makes you think I can convince him of anything?"

He sent her a droll look. "You think me so ignorant that I don't know what you and my son have been getting up to when you're left alone?"

She felt herself flush and it was an odd sensation with how in control she normally was over her responses. "And what if I can't marry?"

"And why can't you?" he asked, clearly humoring her, though she knew such goodwill was limited at best.

"I.. I've always sworn I wouldn't subject myself to such nonsense."

He considered her thoughtfully, features still stern but less so than she might have expected. "You're going to marry eventually, whether you will it or not." He told her simply as though it were an indisputable fact. "Such are the times we live in. Marriage itself, however, need not be the terrible fate you seem convinced it is. You parents had a good marriage, I hear. It is surprising that you are so resistant to the idea."

She dropped her eyes back to the gameboard, though Tywin made no move to take his turn. "I know that my parents learned to love each other with time." She told him. "That's not my problem… I've been told that I would be married one day since I was a little girl- that it was my place to bare some lords' children and run his household somewhere far from my home. I've never wanted that. I've fought the idea for a long time."

"Which part?" He questioned her, drawing her gaze back to his own sharp blue eyes. "That you would leave your home? You've already done that- at your own behest and at theirs." He spoke, referencing when she'd been so close and yet turned away before. "That you could bring yourself to care for a man? Take him to your bed? You've been close to doing that already as well." He told her; tone slightly more scolding than before.

"Mayhap I simply don't want to bare any children. Why would I want to carry a babe for nearly a year and then tear my body apart bringing it into the world?" She questioned bluntly in turn. She felt bad when she saw him flinch slightly, though she wasn't sure what had caused it.

"You are young yet." He told her; tone unchanged despite what his face had given away just a moment before. "But marriage is not all you think that it is. It's not just 'running some lords' household' or baring his children. It is a partnership, it is having another person at your side through times of challenge and joy both. Tell me, has my son ever spoken to you of his mother?"

Arya shook her head, not breaking her own silence in a desire to hear what he had to say. No one had every spoken with her so frankly about marriage before and it was intriguing to gain another prospective. "Joanna was… so much more than simply the mother of my children. She was my confident, my council, the counterbalance to my stubbornness and temper. She was the true strength of my family … As you will one day be of yours. You remind me a bit of her, you know. She was intelligent too, and stubborn to a fault in her own way."

"What happened to her?"

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he answered. "She died in the birthing bed with Tyrion."

It was on the tip of her tongue to point out further evidence as to why she shouldn't allow herself to become with child, but she couldn't bring herself to be so needlessly cruel when he'd shared something so personal with her. She knew he wouldn't appreciate pointless platitudes and so she did not offer any. He continued before the silence could linger, changing the subject back to the main point of their conversation. "Agree to marry my son and you have my word that your future won't be the tragedy you think it will be. You will have more power as a member of my house than you can fathom."

Notes:

Is anyone still reading this? I am so sorry for the looking delay! A few of you may remember that I was having computer issues some time ago. I'm sorry to say my laptop finally had the Blue Screen of Death. I was able to write this chapter using my work computer but cannot guarantee when the next update will come. I'm at hoping to have another it but Christmas though and will do my very best to make that happen.

I hope you are all having a wonderful holiday season this far and hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

When Arya left Tywins tent, her head was abuzz and she felt too tight in her skin. A part of her- a growing part of her- wanted to flee Winterfell all together, return to a nameless, faceless state where the only expectations of her were of her Service to the House and He of Many Faces.

She wasn't ready to return to the keep or interact with anyone she knew just then, and so instead she decided to pursue another task on her list which would take her far from both parties. She did have to duck back into the Armory to retrieve her borrowed bow, but she did so from the shadows and went unseen. She headed toward the thus far unexplored Dothraki camp at a sedate pace, using the time between to take deep breaths of the frigid air and trying to regain the innate sense of calm that she was so desperately missing.

She began to hear the Army before she could see them, situated as they were farther from the gates of the keep. She wasn't sure why their placement had been determined in such a way, but she suspected it was their own preference to remain as isolated from the bulk of the foreigners as possible, not that she would blame them.

She'd seen a Dothraki camp before and so the rough-hewn tents were familiar to her, as were the guttural words being spoken over the general hubbub of a such a large grouping- though it seemed almost unnatural to experience such a scene atop fresh fallen snow rather than the warm sun-stained sands of the far East.

She entered the camp unobstructed, but could see the hard brown eyes watching her every move as she began to make her way deeper amongst the horse-lords. While she knew the general nature of the Dothraki, she'd hoped that their Khal being a woman of similar stature to herself would have shifted their mindset slightly away from 'take' and 'mount' as was normal for them when it came to their women.

It was so far holding true, but she knew those camping at the head of the army were going to be those of a higher rank, so likely more loyal to their Khaleesi and thus more likely to report her presence. No, she would be better served making for the middle of the Army, and so that's where she went. Her eyes were sharp and constantly scanning her surroundings, for despite her relative confidence in her plan, she was very aware of the danger surrounding her and of her odds of success decreasing, should things take a turn against her, the further in she wandered.

She eventually came upon a group of three lounging near a campfire and roasting what looked to be a mangled rabbit. It caught her attention enough to wonder how they'd caught it, for she knew the Dothraki typically survived on what they could pillage, steal, trade, and their horses- both in their milk and their meat. They definitely weren't hunters in the traditional sense and, though she knew they could shoot a bow and swing an Arakh, the rabbit appeared to have met a much more.. blunt… end to its life.

She shook the thought free and stepped closer to gain their attention. "Mathchomaroon. [Hello.]" She greeted them roughly, though she was fairly sure she had gotten the pronunciation correction.

" M'ath [ Hi ]." The man furthest from her responded, being the one also facing her head on. She thought he might have been mocking her, but she pressed on regardless.

"Anna hake ajjin Arya. Anha tikh allayafi tat jerat. Tikh yer? [My name is Arya. I would like to trade. Would you?]" She said slowly and carefully shaping the words.

The man's large head tiled. "Athchomar chomakea Arya, anna hake ajjin Razhako. Fin tat ato zala tat jerat? [Greetings Arya, my name is Razhako. What does one wish to trade?]"

"Anha zala tat tiholat hash at vorsa jin kohol kininosi akka ki Dothraki. Anha tat vo tiholat hash san me ajjin tat yer che fin yer tikh zala ser jerat. [I wish to learn how to fire a bow in the way of the Dothraki. I do not know how much it is worth to you or what you would want in trade.]"

The man's head tilted further, eyes boldly scanning her from head to toe. He said something but it was too fast for her to make out. Whatever it was, it caused his companions to laugh and some of the closer surrounding men to glance over at them. He spoke again as he met her eyes. "Yer? [You?]" He challenged as he leered.

She kept her face blank and composed. "Anha laz hadean ha yer. Anha tiholat jin rhaesh chek. [I could hunt for you. I know this land well.]"

The man's face lost most of its mirth and became thoughtful. "Anha allayafi hare . [I like hare .]" He stated, over-pronouncing 'hare' like it was a word he had only just learned, glancing down at the deformed lump of meat cooking over their fire.

"Ato anni davra. [One of my specialties.]" She told him easily.

"Sen hare ha kasha, ha anna akka anna qoy. [Three hare for each lesson, for me and my blood.]" He offered after a pause, gesturing at the two men beside him.

"Sek. [Deal.]" She confirmed easily, for she only intended this to take one lesson- three rabbits were more than a fair price for such a skill. He likely expected it to take longer- but his experience was also likely with young Dothraki who hadn't her already honed skill to rely on.

The man glanced up at the weak sun filtering through the overcast sky. "Hazze ajjin san asshekh elat. Yer elat ajjin akka kisha laz asshekh. [There is much daylight left. You go hunt now and we can start today.]"

She nodded her assent, for she had expected that they'd want to be paid upfront. "Anha tih tikh irge ahhaz. [I will be back soon.]"

She still didn't wish to go back to the keep, so instead of returning for her horse, she made her way on foot for the cropping of woods that was nearby the Dothraki camp. It took some time for her to get far enough for the sounds to fade again, even despite the muffling effect of the snow, but she eventually reached a quiet spot that had a thinner covering of show across the ground thanks to a thick cropping of trees above.

Arya moved silently over to a spot that gave her a good vantage point and readied her bow, though she did not yet draw the string. Then, she waited. Food was becoming scarce both from the winter and from the large number of people residing nearby, so she expected it would take some time, but she was patient.

In the end, she was fortunate and it took just over two hours for her to get the three promised rabbits, plus two extra, and she make it back with a good hour or so of light left. It was easy to find the three men again and when she did, she found that one of their mounts had been readied and stood lazily nearby, ready for her lesson.

She received a smile from the men when she placed her bounty beside their fire. Razhako pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the reins of the mount waiting and began leading him away without a word. She followed without hesitation, not wanting to lose him in the bustle of the camp, and they soon came to the clearing beside the furthest tents. Rough targets had been set at random distances and intervals along a relatively straight stretch of land that ran from one end of the camp to the other.

It looked well-trod, the snow having been ground down into the dirt until it was just one long line of brown amongst the stretches of white snow. She listened intently to the few brisk instructions he gave her and watched even more intently as he leapt up on his horse to show her firsthand. She watched as he started in a normal riding position and then pushed himself up in one swift move to situate his feet instead on his horses back, weight evenly distributed while his legs remained in a crouch so that he really wasn't all that much taller than he'd been fully sitting.

He showed her first at a standstill, and then at an easy canter passing by in front of her. He circled around her, still in his stance, and then drew his own bow from his back to take aim at the nearest targets. She watched as his legs flexed to keep him balanced, his knees absorbing the shock, she watched where he let the reins fall and how his horse responded to the action, watched as he shifted his stance slightly while drawing his bow, watching how he counteracted the pull and release to keep his aim steady despite the motion.

He circled around a final time and came to a stop in front of her, dismounting easily and then holding the reins out for her to take. She stepped forward and accepted the leather, looking up at the steed that was larger than any she had attempted to mount before, but she would not ask for assistance. Instead, she stepped back so that she level with his withers, body facing his hind end and left hand holding onto the top of the saddle. She moved suddenly, putting all of her strength into her arm and legs as she leapt off the ground and pulled herself up and over the animal that was much larger than she.

What she felt was the biggest obstacle accomplished, she nudged the mount into a walk, getting a feel for his stride. The stirrups were too long for her to use, but she wouldn't really need them anyway and so did not bother with trying to adjust them, instead ignoring them as they hung loose beside her legs. She could see now that she was sat upon it that the padding of the unique saddle had a ridge built upon it on either side where he'd had his feet positioned. She practiced transition herself to a crouching position while at a walk until she felt comfortable with the motion and where her feet needed to land.

She eventually nudged the horse into a canter and rode a full length down and back normally to get used to his long and easy rhythm. Only after she circled Razhako did she attempted to stand at the increased speed. Her first attempt was a failure as her foot slipped during the transition and she sat down hard again upon the saddle. She learned from her mistake in timing, however, and was able to get on her feet the second attempt.

Unlike Razhako, Arya continued to hold the reins as she got used to balancing upon her feet atop the moving animal. She learned to minutely shift her weight with each stride to keep her equilibrium steady as she rode. She went down and back twice and was feeling a burn in the top of her thighs before she was satisfied. She dropped back into her seat as she circled the horse around again and reached up to feel her bow's position after all the movement.

She looked back over at her teacher to see him looking somewhat impressed with her quick progress. He nodded at her somewhat questioning look and so she led the mount back to the far end of the path. She nudged him again into a canter and popped immediately to her feet, holding the reins from her crouch and giving herself the first length to match his stride. She took him in a wide circle at the end of the path and the dropped the reins with a deep breath once he was pointed back down towards the camp. She reached up and carefully drew her bow along with an arrow and then focused back on her balance until the first target was closer. It almost seemed as though she might miss her chance when she drew and released suddenly and without pause to aim, firing once, twice, thrice, and taking out the first three targets in a couple of heartbeats.

Arya paused and checked herself while they drew closer to the fourth target, which was the last that was somewhat even before they began to space out in distance more sporadically. She drew a deep breath as she drew the fifth arrow and then released it, and a sixth, seventh, and eight arrows in succession. She made her way down the full range of targets and hit every single one, though a couple of the shots were more off center than she would normally like, she was pleased with her success as she reached the end.

She could feel herself smiling as she dropped into the seat and regained the reins to pull the mount around to head back, only to spot the Dragon Queen herself standing the head of the camp, her brother standing at her side and both of them watching her from the short distance away. Her smile faltered slightly in surprise but she nodded to the two of them regardless before riding away from them and back to her teacher.

She dismounted gracefully before Razhako and moved around to pat the horses neck gratefully. It snorted a cloud of breath into the cold air and stomped at the ground as it tossed its head. "I should have asked for a better price." The man told he in his native language, sounding amused and impressed both despite the harsh quality Dothraki.

"Mayhap we'll do business again and you can make up for it." She told him with a smile. "And you did get two extra rabbits to go with the one you already had."

"Aye, that is true." He told her. "Until next time, then." She thanked him for his assistance and moved to gather her arrows with a lingering sense of success as he turned back towards his camp and disappeared amongst the crooked paths within to supp on his boon.

Arya did return to the keep for supper in a half-hearted attempt to keep the peace despite knowing her lady Mother was likely already going to be irate with her for disappearing for another full day and in the face of the old Frey's ' request .' She did wait until the very last minute that could be considered polite, however, in a slightly more likely bid to keep the silence whilst in the presence of their guests.

As expected, sharp blue eyes fell on her as she took her seat, but the woman's lips remained pursed and silent for the time being. She would take all the reprieve she could get- honestly, she knew dealing with her family would be tiresome and require patience, but she hadn't expected it to be so exhausting . Still, she would not allow another tense meal to ruin her regained good mood and so she played ignorant to the tenseness of her family while eating just slowly enough to not be considered rude. She was ready to retreat for the night and was determined not to be kept behind again.

~*~ Jon's POV ~*~

Jon watched his little sister from his own seat farther down the table. He didn't make a habit of taking supper within the keep, but had decided to join Daenerys after seeing Arya at her camp. He hadn't yet decided if he would tell Robb of what he had seen, he wasn't yet sure of how he felt about it himself, without bringing someone else's opinion into it. The only comment the Queen had made was "Your sister is very talented." In a somewhat bland tone of voice he had grown use to when she wanted to keep her thoughts guarded.

He wanted to see if she acted any differently than she had the last time he saw her, but he could find no difference in her persona. She was still tensely polite, much more so than she'd ever been in her youth. It seemed she'd learned to cull her loose tongue at some point, for now it seemed every word she spoke was carefully considered beforehand.

She was nearly impossible to read, all of her tells of youth lost in the winds of her past and he found himself mourning for the girl that was so changed from when he left her all of those years ago. His step-mother caught his attention as she whispered to one of the men waiting nearby to take care of their needs. He watched as the man walked further down the table and leaned over his sister to quietly deliver his message to her alone.

He watched as Arya's eyes darted over to her mother before looking away dismissively. Arya had always been a wild child, but now she seemed almost scornful of her family. Surely it couldn't all be because of the betrothal? Of course he'd been furious himself when he found out- not that she'd been betrothed, for that had always been expected, but of whom she'd been betrothed to. He couldn't believe Catelyn and Robb, who toted Family above all else, would marry off the youngest Stark Daughter to the very family who had betrayed the Tully's some years before. It had seemed outrageous at first, but war made for desperation everywhere, he supposed, and he'd hardly been in a position to protest on her behalf from the Wall.

He wondered how Arya would deal with such a marriage, not to mention married life in general. He couldn't imagine her taking to it gracefully, even had it been someone she was more fond of. He thought back to what she had confided in him and Robb within his tent, of training to be a faceless man, only to abandon all they stood for to return home. It all seemed so.. fictitious, so unbelievable, and yet… He hadn't sensed any mistruth in her, which was something he'd become rather practiced at himself over the years.

He would find himself watching her at times, to see if she gave anything away that could prove or disprove her claims, but she was always so in control of herself- even when she was upset, angry, and annoyed. He'd been tempted to push her himself, to see if he could get some kind of honest reaction out of her, he was ashamed to admit. He never did, of course, he could see she got more than enough of that from her Mother, sister, and even from Robb at times, when he got pulled in despite himself.

Still, what he had witnessed today, what he had witnessed when she took on the Hound and walked away victorious, despite her claims that he let her win, the way she held herself and interacted with those around her, he was finding it harder and harder to figure her out rather than it becoming easier over time as it should have. Perhaps he would try to get some time with her away from everyone else- Stark and Lannister alike- he mussed as he watched her finish her food and politely excuse herself as her Mother was caught in conversation she couldn't easily dissect herself from just then. Maybe then he could find some of the girl he remembered still within the dangerous and guarded woman that had returned in her place.

The next day, Arya ducked out of the keep before even her hand maiden could arrive to get her ready and managed to avoid her family until high noon, when another shipment of goods arrived just before the trenches were announced to be finished in full. The combination of the two things apparently meant they needed yet another celebration, though Arya couldn't fathom why they would waste the resources. She found, however, that these festivities were much quainter in nature than her homecoming had been. Truly, it was little more than the Keep's residents and visitors taking a slightly more hearty than normal supper together in the great hall and then partaking in heavily watered down ale and song.

She kept her distance once again until just before it would be impolite and then slipped in just before the food was brought. She'd decided against changing, and so still wore her pants and tunic under her cloak rather than one of the dresses that had been commissioned and delivered to her room without so much as her knowledge that such a thing was taking place.

The dinner portion of the evening passed by easily enough, but she was stalled when she tried to slip away and join the crowd. It seemed her behaviors were becoming predictable, for Sansa laid a hand on her leg to stop her as soon as she moved to rise. The music coming to life muffled the conversations and created something of a cover between them and the noise from the rest of the room.

"Please, sister, join us in Mother's solar for a time." Sansa bid, though it did not sound like a request. She glanced past her sister to see the stern expression on her Mother's face, and then further to see her eldest Brother's uncomfortable expression and his wife's almost pitying one. Sansa rose gracefully and placed and hand on her shoulder to help her rise.

She stood reluctantly, deciding to see what this was about before making a scene of herself. She allowed herself to be led through the more discreet door by the head table and through the halls to the room her Lady Mother spent so much of her time in. She was sat down in a chair, though the three members of her family remained standing around the room and she very quickly felt almost pinned in the center of them. "Might I ask what this is about?" She questioned tensely as the room felt to silence, obviously waiting for something else to occur.

A quiet knock came upon the door before anyone responded, and Catelyn moved immediately to open it. A elderly man wearing Maester's robes entered the room, a small bag holding some unknown supplies held at his side. "Are we ready to begin?" He questioned quietly, glancing directly at her and confirming everything she needed to know.

"We're still waiting for one more." Catelyn told him, offering him a seat of his own.

Deciding she definitely didn't like where this was going, Arya rose from the chair despite the stares that immediately pierced her at the motion. "Mother, what is going on?" She asked again, more directly, wanting the woman to actually admit to what was happening.

"You'll see soon enough. Sit down, child." The woman told her without answering anything.

"I'm sure I can guess, even if you won't speak of it freely." Arya stated, disgust entering her voice at the lack of confirmation. How ignorant did the woman think she was? "It was only two days ago you threatened me with a Maester, after all."

"It's hardly a threat, Arya, there is no need to be so dramatic about this, it's all perfectly normal."

"No need to be so dramatic about being forced bare in front of my family so that some wrinkly old man can examine me against my will?" 'I've killed men for less than this,' she wanted to say, but she held herself back with a hard-won wash of self-control. "Tell me, Mother, who else are we waiting for? I suppose the Lord Frey wants to bare witness to this as well?"

She saw her mother's eyes close from where she stood, but she did not speak up to confirm or deny the words Arya spoke like an accusation. Arya turned away in disgust and attempted to make for the door, but was stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder and her brother's sympathetic eyes staring down at her, even as her prevented her escape. "I'm sorry, sister." He told her softly.

"You're sorry?!" She exclaimed before allowing her head to fall back slightly as mocking laughter burst from her throat. She suddenly couldn't contain it anymore- all of the anger, frustration and hurt she'd been holding back out of some misguided desire to keep the peace, at pretending some part of her was still the same so that her family wouldn't, what, turn away from her? They'd already done that, hadn't they? Why was she the only one trying to hold it all together? What cost was she willing to pay to do so?

"What part is it that you're sorry for, Brother?" She demanded, shaking his hand off her shoulder and turning to face him in full. "Are you sorry for this? Sorry that it's happening so suddenly? Sorry for selling me in the first place?"

"Arya, we didn't-"

"Spare me, won't you? Don't worry- this isn't sudden or unexpected for me. I've known about your little deal for years now."

"Wh- What?" He stuttered, glancing over at their mother in confusion.

"Surprised?" Arya mocked, feeling even more scornful at his reaction. This man, her brother, was supposed to be a King and couldn't even face her- face his own decisions, head on? He had to look to his mother for guidance, even now as a man grown and a husband and father in his on right?

"Do you remember when I told you that I had traveled with the Hound? That he was going to bring me home after the Brotherhood became distracted in hunting the Lannisters? Well, what I failed to mention before, what you failed to ask about, is that we made it home. We were less than a days travel from the keep when I heard about it- about my betrothal to a nameless Frey in exchange for a one time bridge crossing." Her voice had quieted, but into a cold anger as she let loose everything she' been wanting to say since she'd returned, since all those years ago when she overheard a conversation. "It's interesting though, isn't it? That the second daughter is betrothed and to be married before the first even had a prospect? Especially considering the circumstances..."

Sansa paled slightly and glanced down at the ground, though Catelyn spoke up in her defense. "Sansa went through a very traumatic ordeal in Kingslanding-" She began, but Arya cut her off quite rudely.

"Sansa went through a traumatic ordeal?" She repeated back incredulously. "Did she, locked up in a lavish keep like a caged bird? I'm sure it was very traumatic for her with her featherbed and her hot meals, attending the royal courts just like she'd always wanted." She mocked childishly and, though she felt somewhat embarrassed by her outburst, she didn't stop.

"You've no idea what I've been through, the things I've done and the lessons I've learned. I didn't have a room in a keep with a handmaiden to tend to me. I survived this world on my own for years , I fought to get back to this family and succeeded by my own power when I was naught but a child. I ran, I hid, I lied, I starved, I bled, and I killed to get back to this family, only to find- what? That I would be sent away again? To live with a family as despicable as the Freys? That the news of my impending marriage would become a mockery to the Northmen before I could even reunite with my lost family?"

"No, I wasn't willing to sacrifice myself just to see this 'family' again and so I turned away, I left by my own choice and under my own power. I continued to learn how to survive this world on my own, I spent years honing my skills and bettering myself, becoming the woman that you see before you now. The only reason I returned here was because I heard news that there was an unimaginable threat coming from the North that was so great it drew an unheard of alliance from all parts of Westeros and I knew I had to return to help face such a threat."

"And what do I find? You just can't get rid of me fast enough, can you? You would subject me to this ridiculous practice? Hold me down and violate both my body and my trust, simply because some twisted old Lord demands it? Part of me wonders why I ever came back, if this is all that's left of my so-called family. Perhaps I was better off remaining across the Narrow Sea in the first place? Better you thought me dead than subject myself to this horrible fate."

She could see the shifts in their expressions as she continued, but she didn't let it stop her from finishing what she needed to say. "You all may be my blood, but you've more than proven you are no longer my family. I will remain for this fight- I've invested too much coming back for it, but I will never trust you with my personal wellbeing again, and I surely won't remain in Winterfell once this is all over. You may pursue this if you wish, but know that I will never bow to this quietly. If Father were still alive, I am sure he'd be ashamed of all of you for letting our family fall to the state it's in now. Everyone else may have managed to survive, but to call us a family is a joke."

Catelyn approached her in a flurry and raised her hand to strike her, but Arya was no longer content to play along and caught her wrist harshly when she tried. She scoffed aloud, turning on her heal to make for the door once again. Her name was called as she reached it and swung it open harshly. She took a step back in surprise to see not only the old Frey reaching for the door to knock, but also Tywin and Jamie at his side. She frowned in confusion and was pushed further back as they entered.

Jaime shot her a look of confusion, eyes questioning if she knew what was going on and clearly reading into the angry flush she could feel in her face, though he did not speak aloud. Clearly his father hadn't included him in his scheming, though she supposed she shouldn't be surprised- he had told her it would be her part to convince him to leave the Kingsguard so he could legally marry at all, but she though he would have at least spoken to him about it before whatever was about to happen. She herself hadn't expected him to move so quickly nor so boldly and wondered if it had been planned or if somehow heard about her impending examination and interceded on her behalf.

Either way, she felt more reassured with their presence and no longer felt the overwhelming urge to flee the situation and so simply shrugged subtly at him as she waited to see what was going to happen.

"Can I help you, Lord Lannister?" Catelyn demanded, tone confused but angered all the same by their presence in her solar without her say so. "I do not believe you were invited here today."

The smug grin the spread across the old Lions face would have made anyone nervous, and the Lady Catelyn clearly took notice, as did Robb, who immediately stepped closer to his mother and the two elder Lords.

~*~ Tbc ~*~

Notes:

Well, I didn't make it by Christmas, but not too far off! Thank you for all of the comments last chapter, it's good to know so many people are still reading this!

There were a few people who requested I show some other character POVs, which I hadn't been planning to do but can try to incorporate :) The drama in this chapter wink continue and I am toying with the idea of showing part of it from Jamie's eyes. If there are any specific POVs you would like to see, please let me know :) Thank you for reading, I hope you are all having a nice holiday season and that you have a Happy New Year!


	14. Chapter 14

When Tywin spoke, his voice was level but coated in the superiority the Lannisters were so well known for throughout the world. "I'm here to notify the head of the Stark family, King Robb, of a change in condition regarding the marriage contract he signed on behalf of his youngest sister."

Catelyn flushed further at the intended slight and responded despite the dismissal. "What involvement do you have with my daughter's marriage contract to know of any changes in terms?" She demanded to know, darting her eyes once to Lord Frey, who stood to the side with a leer on his withered face.

"The price for Lady Arya's hand in marriage was the crossing of 8,000 Northern soldiers, give or take a few, their horses, and some supplies. I have paid off your debt to Lord Frey, at the cost of one gold per man, and an extra fifty for the wagons. You are welcome." He drawled, knowing full well the reason marriage had been bartered and accepted was for a lack of other tradeable resources to be had at the time.

Catelyn's eyes went wide though Robb and Sansa looked confused and the slightest bit worried at seeing their mother's reaction. "And what have you received in return for such generosity, Lord Tywin?" She asked, tone more polite but tight, as if she'd had a hard time getting the words out.

"I've received transfer of the original payment, of course. Lady Arya's contract will receive a new match, and she will soon become a member of my family." He announced without further ado. To those who didn't know the man well, he sounded almost bored. To those who did know him, well, the smugness and victory in his tone were clear, more so when glanced over at his son as though the whole thing was a done deal.

"We never agreed to that!" Robb finally spoke, temper sparking at the audacity of the lord standing before him.

"You didn't have to. Lord Frey accepted payment already. Do not fret, I have a bride price prepared for you as well, it will be delivered by the end of the day."

"There will be no bride price!" Catelyn exclaimed, "This cannot happen- I won't allow it!"

"It is not for you to allow any more than your son." Tywin drawled distastefully, though in truth if anyone could have intervened it would be the Northern King.

Arya glanced over at Jaime as the chaos reigned only to find him looking almost glacial in his own stiff and carefully controlled anger. She recognized it in him, but wasn't sure which part he was so upset by. She felt like thins were spinning out of control and she wasn't sure how to bring it all back in. The emotions in the room were rising in suffocating amounts from all sides and she felt caught in her own indecision.

~*~ Jaime's POV ~*~

Jaime froze as soon as his father glanced his way with that smug gleam in his eye. His plotting had been becoming quite visible already, but that look was clearly aimed at him and gave away his end game quite well. He'd know the man had been planning something- he'd been far too pleased with himself, but he hadn't expected it to involve himself. The man had been trying to force him to marry for years, both in outright and underhanded ways.

His father was a master-manipulator, he knew well, and he should be past feeling slighted when those ways were used against him, but it still always seemed to sting as fiercely as it had in his youth. He knew it did for his siblings as well when such manipulations were used against them, for none of them were safe from his scheming mind.

This though… How long had Arya been working against him? She clearly wasn't surprised at the turn of events so she obviously knew of this plot ahead of time. Had she been working with his father from the very beginning? They clearly couldn't have planned her meeting up with the company, for traveling was far too unpredictable in the winter for of any real accuracy in timing. Still, she spent quite a bit of time alone with the man while they were camping on the road, and even sense then who knew what they could have spoken about and when?

While his father's scheming stung, Arya's involvement felt almost like a betrayal. He'd liked spending time with the unpredictable woman who could swear and spew filthy jokes like a sellsword whilst in her cups, fight like a seasoned tournament champion on her off days , and who had a sense of humor as twisted and sometimes dark as his own and yet could laugh brightly enough to lift his own spirits from the shadows they oftentimes lingered in.

To know it was all a lie- a set of carefully structured steps to get him to finally marry and produce a heir to continue his bloody lineage – was just.. indescribable. Was any of it real? Hunting together? Sharing secrets from their dark pasts? The night they'd gone to the hot spring and kissed for the first time? Was that why she'd been so confident her betrothal wouldn't stand? Why she had been so insistent on pressing for the physical intimacies so quickly after that first touch?

He watched in a state of numb anger as tempers continued to spike in the room. Any other time he might have gotten offended at the obvious slights against his family and Arya both, but he just couldn't find it in himself to soften his stony exterior in that moment, never mind the fact that his father had taught him to maintain his composure from a ridiculously young age- taught him to lock himself down the more emotions tried to take control of his mind and body.

His head turned towards her without thought when he finally made some noise from her own still and silent state just a handful of steps from him. The noise she made wasn't anything spoken, not at first, nor was it any sound he had heard from her before. It was laughter, but dark laughter full of scorn and twisted anger, and from the reaction of her family, it wasn't the first time she'd made such a sound that night.

He watched as her brother turned towards her, face pained, and reached out a hand that was refused acknowledgement. "Sister…" He pleaded.

She cut him off viciously, grey eyes dark and stormy with her own contained emotions. "No, I can't believe-" She cut herself and took a deep breath, eyes closing momentarily. When they opened again they were sharper, more focused, but still stunning in their rage. "You are okay with everything else I've argued against being forced upon me under my protest, but you outright reject the idea of my marriage being to someone more palatable?"

"More palatable?" Sansa spoke in a sharply pinched tone, blue eyes gleaming and pale cheeks flushed. "Arya, please! You don't know what his despicable family did to me in Kings Landing. You can't trust them- any of them! They're all monsters at heart!"

"More monstrous than the Frey's? No Sansa, you dealt with Joffrey- who I warned you about from the beginning! You're the one who chose to follow him around like a pathetic little girl regardless, even after he got Lady killed! Your own Stupidity does not make a family of monsters, it makes you an Idiot." Arya told her harshly.

Sansa looked stunned and her eyes filled further, threatening to spill over. "It wasn't just Joffrey.." She whispered, but was drowned out by their mother.

"No daughter of mine will become a Lannister!" The elder woman exclaimed hysterically against all reason. "Over my dead body!"

His father glanced over at the woman just as dismissively as he had before. "I suppose the state of your existence at the wedding will be up to you, it however, bears no importance on the event itself." Jaime shook his head just the slightest bit, incredulousness growing the longer the argument continued.

They were interrupted, however, when Lord Frey spoke up for the first time. "The deals done." He told them harshly, cutting through the protest. "The bitch was already proving to be a problem- now she's his problem." He paused and glanced over at Arya lewdly and then at the Maester who stood frozen off to the side of the room. "Still, never know where she might have been- girls been gone a long time after all. Maester's already here, might as well do what we came here to do, no?"

Jaime's frigid gaze locked on the lecherous old man but his father spoke up again before he could act rashly. "No member of My family would ever be subject to such a humiliating and archaic practice. You would do well to hold your tongue- this matter no longer concerns you." He warned the other lord coldly before looking over at the Maester with his own frozen glare. "You can go."

The Maester bowed his head and shuffled around to the door silently, looking grateful for the opportunity to escape the room. Deciding there was no reason not to follow him- at least none that he particularly care about just then- Jaime turned to follow him into the hallway. He could feel his father's glare on the back of his head before the door shut behind him, but knew the man would wait to scold him until they were alone. He turned the opposite direction of the Maester and headed for the exit in the shortest route possible that didn't take him back through the great hall.

He heard the door shut a few seconds later but did not glance back before turning a corner. He was forced to stop however when a much smaller hand clasped his upper arm and tugged him back. He turned suddenly, incensed at his retreat being foiled so quickly and by the last person he wanted to speak to just then.

The petite woman seemed surprised at having the full force of his anger directed at her, but she'd put herself in his path and he only had so much self-control in the face of such blatant manipulation. "Are you okay?" She asked him falteringly, seeming to lose some of her steam.

His hard gaze focused into a glare and he shook her hand free as he turned away again. The woman was stronger than she seemed however, and put that strength into tugging him back. "Jaime! What's going on? … What's wrong?"

It was his turn to laugh, but his was pure viciousness, gleaming teeth on display as he realized that this is similar to how Tyrion must have felt when his own wife betrayed him under the direction of their father and then further humiliated him to teach him a lesson that would stick

He certainly felt humiliated at knowing his feelings and emotions for the woman before him had been so planned out for him. "What's wrong?" He repeated mockingly. "Tell me, Arya, how long have you been conspiring with my father to finally force me into marriage?"

"Wh-What?!" She demanded, almost convincingly. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh please, spare me. Aren't you the one who's always toting on about how we should all stop playing words games and just speak the truth? Please, let's hear it. What's the truth?" He challenged.

"I am telling you the truth- I'm not-"

"It was very clear that you knew what my father was going to say before he said it. Unless the plan is for you to marry a different Lannister? Tyrion, perhaps?" He added scornfully, knowing his father would never give his younger brother anything remotely good in the world.

"I, no, of course not, but-"

"But nothing! Hard as he might try, whatever tricks he might attempt to pull, my father cannot force me to leave the Kingsguard! He cannot force me to marry anyone, and I sure as fuck wouldn't marry anyone who schemed with him to try and force my hand." He finished coldly. "The games up, thanks for playing, better luck next time." He shook her hand off again, more forcefully, and strode away from her with strides she couldn't hope to match unless she ran after him, and he was sure she was too proud to display such desperation. He made it to the door unhindered, and he couldn't have honestly said whether he was glad for it or not.

It was the second time in two days that Arya felt like her skin was too tight. She strode quickly out of the doors and into the courtyard where snow was falling anew. It was mostly abandoned, being so late in the day and with the lingering light quickly fading away and she was grateful for the reprieve.

She walked out into the open, slower, but still fueled by emotion. Nothing had gone as she would have expected when she agreed to Tywin's proposal just the day prior, she couldn't believe how quickly it had all fallen apart. She hadn't expected him to have such an extreme reaction to the idea, though clearly it could have been better delivered to the man.

Even still, she had her pride and that pride was a bit hurt at the cold and unwavering rejection so clearly displayed. She refused to chase after a man, any man, and she surely wasn't about to start then, no matter how skewed things seemed to have gone. She felt restless, like she had weeks' worth of energy she needed to burn or she might burst.

Almost as if he could read her mind, a figure appeared across the courtyard dressed in a Lannister uniform. She couldn't make him out through the snowfall at first, but recognized his silhouette before she could actually make out any features. "What are you doing out here?" She asked, surprised to see him so blatantly out in the open.

"A man has heard of a feast in the Great Hall." He told her with a curl of his lip.

"You've missed the food, only dancing and bad ale left." She told him, glad for the distraction.

"No matter." He told her with a careless shrug and she thought he might not have been going to the Great Hall at all. He shifted to remove something from his back and she could see it was a slender sword near the same size as Needle once it was held before him. "Would a girl care to spar?" He asked, twirling the slender blade around his hand with perfect control before holding it out to her hilt first by the blade.

She took it from him reverently, looking down at the beautiful metal work and small details inlaid into the design. The symbol of the faceless men was embossed just beneath the guard and barely visible to the naked eye, but slightly moreso when she tilted the blade towards the light.

Seeing that Jaqen had drawn the matching pair of swords she sometimes saw him use, she drew Needle beside the new blade and found them to be a near perfect match in balance, though how he had managed such a thing without the other for comparison was beyond her.

They'd only ever practiced two blade fighting with short staffs, as it was a much more precarious dance than fighting with a single sword, not to mention that it had been quite a long time since then. Still, she didn't refuse, and even welcomed the knowledge that she would have to focus herself fully on the match to avoid injury, and so would have no time to think about the events that had just occurred, nor the events from the days prior.

He moved to take his stance and she followed after unclasping her cloak and tossing it to the side, not wanting the excess fabric to hinder her movement. He started slowly, by tapping one of his blades against hers and then granting a gradual increase in speed until they were exchanging blows at a rate that most would find impressive, even if it wasn't the fastest they could move if need be.

She missed a block by a scant second and the blunt edge of his blade smacked harshly against the flesh of her upper arm. He didn't pause or allow her time to recover, but continued his skilled swings and forced her to respond on mostly instinct and muscle memory as she fought to keep up.

He made it through her guard again and then a third time before he spoke up. "A girl is distracted." He commented, and it sounded like a chastisement despite its lack of inflection.

They continued their lethal dance and she could feel more bruises, along with a few small nicks, forming across her body for her mind that kept wandering despite her best efforts. "Focus!" He commanded her as he had to pull a swing to avoid a more serious injury to her side as she failed to block him yet again. "A girl must focus or she will die. Such is the way." He told her as he pushed her back several steps and she stumbled over a divot in the snow. He watched her fall to her back and lay in the snow with her chest heaving rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

"Mayhaps a girl is not as ready as a man thought." He told her, looking down at her fallen form in disappointment.

"A girl is ready!" She argued, pushing herself back to her feet despite the numbness creeping into her limbs, determined to prove herself despite all else. She took a starting stance, which he matched with a frown still tugging at his mouth. She made the first move then, and managed to keep on the offence for a respectable amount of time before he turned it back around on her.

"Better." He told her simply as he pressed her back again and she managed to sidestep and turn them around so that his back was to the edge and hers to the open courtyard.

They continued exchanging blows and blocks on nimble feet and Arya did a better job of shutting everything out through sheer stubbornness than she had in the beginning. Or at least, she did until they were interrupted. "What, in the name of the Seven, is going on here?" A familiar voice demanded. Arya's step faltered and she felt the blade that was already close open a small nick on her cheek before he was able to adjust himself to her shift in motion.

They disengaged a moment later and Arya turned to face a cold Tywin Lannister staring them down, and resting on the pommel of his own sword strapped at his waist. Arya glanced over at Jaqen, but he ignored her gaze to watch the man and so she assumed this was up to her to explain. "A spar," She finally told him after a short pause. "with a friend."

"A friend." He drawled, stepping closer. He examined Jaqen with sharp, narrow eyes. "You wear Lannister colors but I don't recognize your face. Who are you?"

"A man is Jaqen H'ghar." He responded, using his most commonly called upon name for the face he wore. "Do you know the faces of all your many soldiers, your Lordship?" Jaqen taunted in return.

"Most of them. How long have you been with my company?"

"A man has worn Lannister colors since he joined with the army at Harrenhal."

"Who is your commanding officer?" He pressed suspiciously, glancing sharply at Arya.

Jaqen's lips curled dangerously but she spoke up before the back and forth could continue. "Do you need something, Lord Tywin?" She asked pointedly, some of her lingering upset still aimed at him for his own part in the events prior. "I'm quite busy at the moment, you see."

"Quite." He repeated back to her, icy eyes taking in her mussed state and the blood she could feel trickling down her cheek from the last misstep. She wondered if any of her bruises had bloomed yet but didn't think any of them would be visible to his observant gaze. "I would like a moment of your time." He told her, not phrasing it as a question. He turned towards the dangerous man disguised as a soldier and dismissed him carelessly, unaware of the fire he stroked so blasely in his arrogance.

Arya watched him consideringly before turning back to Jaqen for approval. Tywin caught the motion and frowned deeper as Jaqen nodded just slightly before bowing shallowly and taking his leave without argument. "Would you care to answer me truthfully as to who that was?" He questioned her once they were alone.

"I was not untruthful, nor was he." She told him unwaveringly.

He did not look as though he believed her, but he moved on to what he truly wanted to speak to her about. "You spoke to Jaime." He stated simply.

"I did." She acknowledged, mind flashing back to those few moments the exchange lasted and the bitter taste of rejection still lingering in the back of her throat.

" And ? What did he have to say?"

Arya looked up at him, anger sparking to life once more despite the tiredness now weighing her down. "What do you think he had to say?!" She asked him boldly. She wanted him to answer for his poor choice- Afterall, how could a man so smart make such a bad judgement call regarding his own son's reactions? "He was furious, he thinks we've been 'conspiring' with each other."

"Haven't we?" He drawled in that same tone she was quickly beginning to hate that night.

"No!" She exclaimed. "I agreed to your offer yesterday, I thought you would talk to him! Why would you let him find out that way? What did you hope to achieve? Surely you had to know he would react poorly to such blatant posturing and manipulation, especially considering he said this isn't your first attempt at gaining this result."

He seemed honestly surprised at her scolding, for he blinked at her silently in a moment that seemed to stretch. She wondered how often he was called out on his shite after his wife died if this was his reaction to it. "You know what? Never mind." She told him when he seemed to be forming his defense. "I think I've had my fill of Lannisters and lies for now. Pleasant Eve, Lord Tywin, I'm sure I will see you on the morrow." She told him, voice like saccharin and thrice as poisonous.

She turned on her heal and left the courtyard herself, disappearing quickly into the shadows beyond the gate, despite the brightness of the moon reflecting off the snow cover. Though she hadn't had a destination in mind when she left, the path to the hidden spring stuck out in her mind and sounded blissful to her cold and sore body, for she hadn't taken the time to gather her cloak before she'd left- a choice she began to regret when the winds started to pick up.

It took her nearly half an hour to make it through the thick snow barrier built up around the entrance, but it was worth it once she was inside and the air became filled with warm herbal steam. She had plenty of light to see by and made no hesitation in stripping down and entering the shallow pool formed amongst the naturally smoothed stone.

The heat of the water was painful on her frozen skin at first, but she ignored the stinging until she had thawed and it began to feel pleasant. Finally alone with her thoughts and nothing else to distract herself, her mind began to wander. Everything had changed so suddenly and she wasn't sure what to expect anymore. Jaime was right, no one could force him to leave the Kingsguard against his will, no one could force him to marry unless he agreed to it and resigned his oath to King Tommen.

She felt selfish in thinking it, but what would happen to her if he refused? She would hardly bring herself to beg him, a man- any man, to marry her, but where would that leave her with an active and open marriage contract? Would Tywin truly marry her to Tyrion as a second choice if it meant he still got her as a good-daughter like he wanted? With Jaime in the Kingsguard, Tyrion was technically first in line to inherit after Tywin met the Stranger.

But his distaste for his youngest son was well known and Jaime had seemed rather mocking when he mentioned it, so she didn't think it was truly very likely. Where did that leave her though? She knew there were many Lannisters more distantly related to the Lord- would he try to marry her off to one of his nephews or youthful cousins?

What should she do if he tried? It felt like she was right back at square one and hadn't really gained any relief from her fate at all. She'd reluctantly agreed to a marriage with Jaime because she could see herself finding some kind of contentedness with that life, if not happiness with marriage itself. But if it wasn't Jaime? If it was some random stranger she was to be paired with?

Should she give in and accept that she would be married one way or another, sooner or later, whether she willed it or not? Or should she continue to fight the idea, disappear if necessary to remain an independent woman free to make her own decisions? What was that freedom worth? What was this life worth? She was finding it harder and harder to determine, but the answers to those questions were worth everything to know, if only she could grasp them.

~*~ Tbc ~*~

Notes:

...Surprise? Did anyone see this coming? Please let me know where you think! Thank you for reading :)


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Arya strode lazily up the narrow staircase to the empty room she'd shared company with when they'd abandoned her welcoming feast what felt like eons ago, though she knew it had only been a week. She had attempted to go back to her room once she'd decided to return to the keep, but she'd heard movement inside when she had approached the door. She wasn't sure if it was the Handmaiden, Mother, or Sister, but she didn't feel up to a confrontation with any of them and so turned away and had made for the steps nearby instead of entering.

She hadn't expected anyone else would be there but found herself corrected once she entered the silent room. A man stood before one of the windows, one with a recognizable stature much lower in height than any other man she knew of in Westeros. He turned to look at her from where she'd frozen upon her entrance, only part way through the door. "Ah, I apologize." She told him "I did not know anyone was here- I will go."

"Please, don't leave on my account." Tyrion Lannister told her. "You may join me, if you wish. I have wine." He told her, gesturing with the full cup he held in one hand at the flagon resting nearby.

Her immediate notion was to decline, but she paused and looked at him consideringly, feeling intrigued by the opportunity. She had so many unanswered questions regarding this man- the information she'd gathered had been vague and disjointed, and no one in her current company ever seemed to speak of him, not in past or present tense. She'd considered asking Jaime, or even Bronn, but it had never seemed the right time.

"Lord Tyrion-" She started to introduce herself formally, for they'd never actually spoken or interacted directly, not even when he'd visited Winterfell on his way to the Wall all those years ago, not when they passed company in Kings Landing.

"Not a Lord anymore, Princess. Definitely not in these lands."

"Not a Princess." She argued in turn, but entered the room anyway, walking slowly towards him. He moved to the nearby table and grabbed the wine and poured her a serving in an extra glass.

"Pretty sure you are, by the rules of succession. Unless they've somehow changed in the short time since I left Westeros, after nearly a millennia of remaining the same?"

"They haven't changed."

"Then you're a princess. It's just a title, anyway, nothing to get so worked up about."

"It's a title I don't want." She told him. "I could barely be considered a Lady by most, let alone a Princess."

"You are what you are, whether you want it or not. You could claim not to be a Princess just as much as I could claim not to be a dwarf- it won't make a bit of difference for either of us." He told her bluntly, raising his glass as if in a toast.

She conceded to his point with a shallow tilt of her head, raising her own glass in turn and taking a small drink. "I am surprised to see you in the keep this late in the eve." Arya spoke after a moment of watching the snow fall in the darkened night. "I thought you normally kept you the Queen's camp unless in council." She told him, speaking only from her own observations.

"That I do." He agreed with a hum. "The Queen is in a private council with King Robb at the moment. I was dismissed and am waiting her presence to depart back to camp. And you? What has you wandering the halls, looking for empty rooms, so late at night in your own keep?"

"Avoidance." She told him, returning his honesty with her own, self-degrading smirk curling the corner of her mouth.

"Ahh, yes. I imagine your family is taking the news quite hard." He mussed, glancing at her sideways.

"Has the word gotten out already?"

"Aye, but only to certain people thus far, hence my presence here tonight. The Queen may be a bit nervous at the thought of the Northern and Southern alliance gaining permanence through marriage."

"I'm surprised you would tell me that." She told him, and it was true. Such information, however innocuous it may seem, could be used against the woman whose mere presence was already standing on precarious grounds.

"Well, you are soon to be my good-sister, provided the rumors are true? I'd love to hear how you got my stubborn ass of a brother to agree to that?"

She peered over at him and he seemed to read her response despite her lack of words. "Ahh." He sighed, "That make's more sense."

"Why do you say so?"

"Jaime's had something of a vendetta against marriage for a long time. For more than one reason, but it's been that way for a very long time." He looked up at her to see her watching him silently, hoping he might go on so she could have some greater understanding of where all of that rage had come from. "It's not a pleasant story." He told her at her probing look- the only story he had any business telling the woman, he couldn't cross the line into Jaime and Cersei's sordid mess.

"Most of the stories I know aren't." She rebuked.

He acquiesced with a slight shrug and deep drink from his glass before he spoke again. "I was ten and six at the time, Jaime was twenty. We were riding when we heard a scream. A woman came running out onto the road, clothes half torn off, with two men on her heals. Jaime dealt with the men easily enough while I wrapped her in my cloak. She was too shaken to send off on her own and so while Jaime took off after the rapers, I took her to the nearest inn and fed her.."

"Her name was Tysha. She was a Wheelwright's orphan, and she was hungry. Together we finished off three chickens and a flagon of wine. Impossible as it seems, there was once a time that I was unaccustomed to wine. I forgot how afraid I was around girls- how I was always waiting for them to laugh at me, or look away embarrassed, or ask me about my tall, handsome brother… I forgot about everything but Tysha, and somehow I found myself in her bed."

He glanced up at her again, seeming almost embarrassed himself. He cleared his throat harshly and continued. "Anyway, by the next morning I found myself deeply in love and asked for her hand. A few lies, a few gold coins, and one drunken Septon, and there you have it, man and wife… For a fortnight anyway, until the Septon sobered up and told my father."

"The first thing he did was have Jaime tell me the truth: the girl was a whore you see. Jaime had arranged the whole thing- the road, the rapers, all of it. He thought it was time I had a woman. As soon as Jaime told me the truth, my father brought my wife in and gave her to his guards. He paid her well- a silver for each man- what kind of whore can a command that kind of price?"

He was silent for a moment and she almost thought he was finished, but he spoke again before she could bring herself to say anything. "He brought me into the barracks and made me watch. By the end, she had so much silver that the coins were slipping through her fingers and rolling onto the floor. Jaime told me after that he never intended for any of it to happen. He was angry with our father for his callousness and cruelty for a long time after that."

"He couldn't understand why father was so angry with him for forfeiting his right to marry, but would treat my own marriage- however unknowingly false- with such disregard. It might not have been honest, but it was true beneath the Seven. The Septon burned our record and from there on my having a wife appeared to have never existed. My brother's always been a bit naïve at times though, especially concerning me." He finished, a fond note in his voice. "He's never seen me the way the rest of the world does."

"What happened after?" Arya asked in quiet voice, wondering if some good might have come out of it in the end.

"After? Nothing."

"And you've never married again?"

"Ha, no, I doubt I ever will."

"What will you do once the battle is over? Assuming we survive, of course."

"I don't really know." He confided. "When I left this land, I thought I would never return. Queen Daenerys is attempting to make long-standing allegiances of her own, so I suppose what I do in the future will depend on her successes."

"And what of your family?"

"What of them?"

"Do you wish for them to be part of your future?"

"I'm afraid that ships already sailed." He told her, sounding wistful. "What with my killing my nephew the King, and all that."

"Did you?" She asked him bluntly. "Kill your nephew?"

She didn't expect him to smile, but he did. "Not very many people have actually asked me that, you know? They usually just assume it to be true."

"I never assume anything."

"Smart girl."

"You didn't answer me."

"You ask a lot of questions." He rebuked. "Why should I answer all of them?"

"I don't think you did it." She told him, though it was more of a statement than an answer to his question.

"Don't you? Why not? I was heard threatening him more than once. I struck him more than once, and in public at that."

"Joffrey was a little shit- of all the people in the world who likely wanted to kill him, I doubt his uncle would actually be the one to do it. If anything, your discipline of him shows that you were trying to make him a better man. Why make such an effort if only to kill him? It just doesn't make any sense."

"My father has already declared me guilty. That should be enough for you- it's enough for everyone else."

"Being declared guilty by someone with their own agenda in a position of power doesn't make you guilty, it makes for convenience."

"My father is a very dangerous man. You shouldn't underestimate him." He cautioned her at her bold words. "Not if you want to keep in his good graces- they're quite hard to come by, you know."

"It might be too late for that." She said, mind flashing back to earlier when she'd left him.

"All the same."

"There's still something I don't understand.. Even before all of that, when you were free and Jaime sworn to the Kingsguard- why didn't your father ever force you to marry? You would have been next in line to inherit- would still be next in line, if your innocence is proven. Why try so hard to force Jaime when he has another option?"

"Ahh, well, I believe his exact words were, " I would let myself be consumed by maggots before mocking the family name and making you heir to Casterly Rock ."

"That seems harsh."

"My father is a harsh man. Still, it is late. You should head off- you wouldn't want to be found in my company." Considering he had been the one to invite her into the room, the warning seemed like more of an excuse than anything, but she recognized that she'd been poking at sore points and so let him have the retreat.

"It is getting late, you're right. I will take my leave- Good Eve, Tyrion."

"Good Eve, Princess." He told her in farewell.

There was another war council the following day to plan for their next steps, now that the established work was done. To say that the Lannister party was tense would have been quite the understatement. Rather than coming out to meet them at their camp as she had done previously, Arya instead waiting just outside the keep, to join them as they entered to show a united front to their allies.

She couldn't have said whether father and son had spoken at all, or what might have been said, because neither was looking at the other, nor directly at her. Though in truth, she may have been avoiding looking directly at either of them and so could have missed something. She caught sight of her family already seated at the head of the room before pointedly turning her eyes away. She'd managed to avoid them all since the events the day prior and she wasn't in a hurry to rehash things by opening the door to conversation.

Luckily, the council began relatively quickly and everyone was soon focused on the ideas being shared and how they could best hope to survive the coming threat. It was a lucrative meeting and a few more decisions were made- a small troupe would travel to the Last Hearth in order to help evacuate those who were left, while a few individuals would remain there afterwards to hide amongst the endless underground caves and springs in an attempt to come out behind the army and have a better shot at taking out the White Walkers, perhaps even the Night King himself, God's be good.

Finally, it was decided that the woman and children who were unable to fight would make their way to Castle Cerwyn, rather than hiding in the crypts as would have been the go-to in any other situation. It was brought up, however, that if these beings could truly raise the dead, what would stop them from rising the hundreds of years' worth of Starks and setting them upon the most vulnerable of them all?

Instead, they would travel to the nearby Castle and remain there until word of victory or defeat came. If they were victorious and stopped the army at Winterfell, all would be well. If they failed, the women and children would continue South and would attempt to make for the Eyrie, where the Lady Catelyn's sister still ruled and with a location that would hopefully keep them safer than any other in Westeros, considering the difficulty in getting to it.

Of course, they were all hopeful that such plans wouldn't need come to fruition, but better to plan for all eventualities than end up without a plan at all. The council lasted hours before it was finally called. Some groups lingered, but most departed immediately. Arya trailed after the Lannisters, but only to pull Jaime aside once they were free of most the crowd.

She'd already felt uncomfortable with how things had been left between the two of them, but her little heart-to-heart with Tyrion the night before made her feel even worse about the whole thing. Those she'd already known, logically, what kind of a man Tywin was, the more she found out about how he was as a father, the more disappointment came along with it. Truly, for someone who focused so completely on the state of his family's good name, he had quite the large blind spot for how he actually treated that family.

She waited until they had almost arrived at the gate before reaching out to gently grasp his arm- not trying to physically stop him, but rather requesting it of him and allowing him to decide whether or not he would pause. She could see his jaw clench as he seemed to stand indecisive for a moment. She thought he would continue on regardless, but he finally turned towards her before she could decide to pull away and retreat. "Can we talk? Just for a moment?" She requested at having his attention. "Please?"

He glanced up and around. Though mostly alone, there were still several people going about their business within hearing rage- it was midday still after all, and so he gestured her off to the side, where a path through the snow followed along the inside of the gate-walls. She knew if you followed it further and made a turn, it would lead to the Godswood, and so that's where she led them.

They walked in silence until they reached the silent wood, and then for a bit beyond. "Well?" Jaime spoke up, breaking the lingering quiet. "What was it you wished to speak to me about so urgently?" His voice wasn't as frosty as it had been before, but it wasn't warm nor friendly either. If anything, it was rather indifferent and she found herself longing to know how he was really feeling.

She found herself at a loss for words now that she had him alone, but she knew his patience wasn't infinite and so attempted to express herself. "I, just, I need you to know that I haven't, that your father, I-" She paused and sighed quietly through her nose in frustration with herself. "It wasn't a lie." She said finally. "None of it… I haven't been conspiring with your father to force you to do anything. I'm sorry it seemed that way."

"You haven't been conspiring but still managed to come to an agreement with him that you and I would marry, all without my knowledge or my consent." He told her blithely.

"It wasn't like it!" She defended. "Two days ago, I spoke to your father about my upcoming marriage. I, I thought I had managed to delay it farther than I had, and I suppose I was a bit upset at the continuation of the demands they were making… He.. offered me another solution. He said he could buy my marriage contract from Lord Frey and that he wanted me as his good-daughter. I agreed, eventually." Her eyes dropped to the snow dusted ground, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for the whole situation. "I just, I don't have time to go to war with the Frey's right now and, I, I thought the idea of being married to you seemed a much more agreeable fate than what I was facing already."

"But that wasn't fair to you. It doesn't matter that I didn't know you would be so angry, or that your father would reveal it in such a way, and I'm sorry, truly, but this hasn't all been a game to me, no matter how it seems to your eyes. I've never wanted to get married, I've fought against it for a long time, actually, and I understand why you don't want to either… I wish it were as easy for me to become unmarriable as it is for a man, actually." She attempted to joke, but knew it fell flat. "Regardless, this is my own mess, and you don't owe it to me to fix it, especially not at the cost of your own happiness. I just want you to know that I'm sorry, for all of this." She finished, unable to bring herself to vocalize all of the individual things she was sorry for- most of all that she had lost him before she'd truly gotten to know what it was like to have him- not physically, not specifically, but on a grander scale that stolen kisses and hidden feelings.

She finally glanced up to meet his eyes, needing to know what he was thinking in return. He studied her, seeming just a bit softer, but still holding back most of his emotions. He smiled, but it seemed sad. "Whether this was your scheme or my fathers, it's one I still can't allow myself to fall prey to." He told her gently. "I've fought against this for too long to give into it now. I am.. Sorry, for your circumstance." He said before pausing with a slight grimace at the knowledge that she would still be required to marry, even if it wasn't to him. "But I won't leave the Kingsguard. Not for anyone."

~*~ Jaime's POV ~*~

He watched admirably as the woman steeled herself in the wake of his statement. He shouldn't feel this guilty for rejecting this ridiculous idea, for rejecting her. He had no obligation to this woman, none whatsoever. She was hardly the first woman he'd gotten close to on the road- though perhaps the first he hadn't bedded immediately and then promptly forgotten about.

She was a highborn lady, she should have been prepared for such a fate from childhood, as all highborn woman were. His sister had been, despite her own scorn for the idea and events when they finally came to be. Marcella had been, when matched with Prince Trystane. Though, perhaps those weren't good comparisons, considering the differences in their upbringing and the challenges they'd faced. Still, she'd had a fairly normal upbringing until the unfortunate events that took place in Kings Landing, so surely she had been prepared to some extent.

He watched as she nodded her head gracefully. "I understand." She told him in an unbroken voice. She stepped towards him, more hesitantly, and he watched to see what she would do. He wasn't prepared for her to rise to her tip-toes so that she could press cold lips to his cheek. He felt another flash of regret but didn't let it cross his expression as she dropped back to her booted feet and spun on her heal without another word, walking rather quickly back the way they came.

He wasn't quite sure how he made his own way back to camp, but he found himself approaching his tent not too much later. He thought about ducking inside, but instead and his way deeper into the mass, searching until he found Bronn playing dice with some of them men a few fires down. He took a seat heavily beside him, ignoring the narrowed eye looked he gained from the man. "Where've you been?" The sellsword asked, glancing back down at the table.

He looked over again when Jaime declined to answer. "Ahh, I see, spending some quality time with the bride to be?" He asked, wiggling his brows.

"There is no bride to be." Jaime denied, only to continue after a moment pause. "Or, I suppose there is, but not mine."

"No?"

"No."

"Why in the seven hells not?" He asked incredulously.

Jamie shot the man a look, maintaining his silence.

"Out of your bloody mind." Bronn murmured to himself, though clearly meant to be heard.

"Excuse me?" Jaime demanded. "What business is it of yours, exactly?"

"No business of mine, I'm just saying. If I was offered a woman like that to take as my wife, you can sure as fuck bet I wouldn't pass her off to the next man passing by. Who's next in your family, eh? That ponce, Lancel, innit? Bah. I'd like to see him try and handle that one. Boy probably couldn't please a woman if given step by step instructions and an extra set if hands besides."

"Must you be so crude?"

"Why not?"

" You're disgusting."

"Only because it's her. Any other woman and you'd jump right in. Shouldn't that tell you something by itself?"

"I'm not getting married." Jaime stated, slowly. "Not to her, not to anyone. If that means she marries that cunt Lancel then so be it. It's not my problem."

Bronn shot him a dubious look. "If you say so."

"I say so." Jaime confirmed sternly.

When Arya left the Godswood, she ran almost immediately into Jon, who was walking alone for a change. She almost veered off, but he spotted her before she could and moved to intercept her. "Arya, how fare you?" He questioned, for they hadn't spoken at all since everything had happened, and she assumed Robb had filled him in.

"I fare fine. How fare you?" She asked in turn, forcing down anything that may have been lingering from the short conversation she'd just had.

"I fare fine. Truly though, how are you?"

"I'm not sure what you want me to say, Jon. I'm fine, there isn't much more to say than that."

"'Fine' isn't the same thing as being happy, sister. I know you and Ser Jaime are friends.. Are you truly happier with this match than with the Frey's?"

"There is no match." She told him quietly. "I will marry a Lannister, but I'm not sure yet which one. Jaime is in the Kingsguard- he can hold no lands and take no wife- that has not changed."

She watched as his brows furrowed and he appeared to want to say something, but she wasn't sure what it would have been because he seemed to change the words entirely. "I only want your happiness, sister, in whichever form it holds." He told her instead. "It's all I've ever wanted for you."

"And what of your own happiness, brother? I've seen you with the Queen… Might there be a story building there?" She questioned, both wanting to change the subject and wanting to get a better feel for just how attached he was to the woman.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He glanced around to see them relatively alone before he responded quietly. "You know she's my Aunt in truth, sister."

Arya shrugged lightly. "The Targaryen's have been wedding brother to sister for centuries. I'd rather say an aunt/nephew pairing to be a step up."

"Beyond that, everyone believes me to be Lord Eddard's bastard son and nothing more."

"Not everyone."

"Most everyone."

"Why don't you speak up, anyway? By rite of blood, you have a greater claim to the throne than she does. Wouldn't that solve this whole conflict?"

"I have no proof of my claims and she has two armies and three dragons at her back. How would you expect such a challenge to end?" He asked her, knowingly.

"You think she would kill you?"

"I think she's a Queen in her own right, who has been fighting her entire life to get back to these lands and claim her father's throne for her own. I think desperation makes people do things they otherwise might not do, and I think we are all better off if I continue to remain as naught but Lord Eddard's bastard."

"But you could be so much more than that…"

"I've made peace with who I am as Jon Snow, Arya, I don't need to be any more than what I already am."

And that was just… Well, it was everything, wasn't it? He made it sound so easy, but was it? It was as Tyrion had said- She could deny being herself as much as she wanted, but it didn't make her someone else at her- was it not the same for him? He was a born prince, it was his birthright to rule, however much that birthright might have been a thing of the past. Surely such a secret would come out eventually, one way or another?

~*~ Tbc ~*~

Notes: Hello again! A few people seen confused by the events that have happened in this story so I wanted to clarify. Most everything that happened had still happened, unless directly involving the altered circumstances.

~ Catelyn did not let Jaime go, and so he and Sansa were eventually exchanged.  
~ Because of that, Tywin never conspired with the Freys to betray the Starks, and so the Red Wedding never happened.  
~ Joffrey was still killed, but Sansa was already gone, and do never engaged to Tyrion or implicated in the assassination.  
~ Marjorie married Tommen, who is ruling in the South.  
~ Cersei is in Highgarden married to Loras  
~No one knows who murdered Joffrey yet I hope that helps! I look forward to hearing what you think :) Thank you for reading and a special thank you to those who have left comments and kudos!


	16. Chapter 16

Notes: PLEASE NOTE THE RATING! This chapter takes a rather graphic and dark turn at the end... Proceed with caution. I have a feeling some of you are going to hate it, but I felt it was necessary for some much needed character development. Hopefully I still have some readers after this!

The next morn, Arya found herself in the armory and seeking a man whom she'd seen often but had interacted with seldomly since her return, her feelings on him conflicted still, but left with few options considering how many people she found herself avoiding just then.

He wasn't alone, four other smiths working in the building that housed a huge central forge with workspaces arranged around it. She approached him anyway, the could she passed before she reached him clearly recognizing her and refraining from saying anything in the face of her clear focus. She observed him from behind for a long moment, watching the play of his honed musculature under the loose shirt he hadn't yet abandoned so early in the day. She had no doubt he would be working bare-chested by high noon, despite the chill and snow on the ground outside the sweat box that existed within the stone walls.

She cleared her throat softly as he moved back to drench the blade he currently bore from raw dragon glass in a barrel of water with an easy grace that still caught her attention, all these years later. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound and then froze as he realized who it was.

"Lady Stark." He stated after a pause as he pulled the blade free and moved back across to this work surface.

"Gendry." She greeted softly, torn on whether or not to correct his term of address considering they hadn't spoken since her somewhat tense reaction at finding him with Beric and Thoros so many days prior. "It's good to see you looking well-" She tried, pulling on learned skills to try and navigate the uncomfortable exchange.

She should have sought him out sooner, she knew suddenly. They'd been through a lot together, had survived a lot together, regardless of how they may have parted ways. She watched as he shot her an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye. "Aye," He responded. "Your brothers been good to me." He allowed, tone still tense.

"How long have you been here?"

"Dunno, a while, haven't really been keeping track all that close. Times more for people like you than me, anyhow." He told her.

"What does that mean? Time's for everyone, especially now." She argued evenly. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Doesn't it? I know what I'm here for, know what I can contribute. Doesn't matter if we have five days or fifty before They come- I can work sunup to sun down and only pause long enough to rest and still only make as many blades as I can make in a day. That's my duty- I'm not an especially skilled fighter, not like you. Don't get me wrong, I'll fight with everything I've got, but I don't expect I'll survive the coming conflict if The Other's breech out defenses. That's okay though- I've come to terms with it. I'll make as many blades as I can before They come, arm as many folks as I can before it's too late, and then take down as many as I can before they take me down. That's what I have to offer this fight."

"I can teach you to fight." Arya offered lowly. "You're already comfortable with a blade in your hand, I'm sure you'd pick it up quickly. This doesn't need be a death sentence."

"There's no time for that and you know it." He rebuked. "I've accepted my fate.

"If you've resigned yourself to dying, if you've truly no hope, why even come here? Why subject yourself to such a fate? Having hope, having confidence, not just believing but _knowing_ you will win, are all things vital to the success of a battle. If you've none, you've already lost."

"Why are you here, Arya? You've known where to find me for days, why are you here now?"

"I-," She trailed off, uncertain of how to respond in the face of his clear refusal to answer. She locked down on her scattered emotion and tensed her spine unconsciously as she pulled herself together and forcefully calmed her outer physiology.

"I need a favor." She told him, sounding almost blank. "A particular weapon I can't find in Westeros and one I want made with the Dragonglass." She pulled the cloth from where it was tucked into her belt beneath her warm cloak and unrolled it to show the blueprint she'd drawn. "Can you make it?"

He leaned closer, studying the lines of her designed with pinched brows. "I dunno why not, looks simple enough."

"You'll make it for me then?"

His head tiled so he could see her expression fully and she could see the line of his tense jaw flex as he grit his teeth. "Sure, give me a few days. You'll have it before They arrive." He told her, turning back to his previous task and moving to reheat the material he working. "Anything else, Mi'lady?" He asked her without turning.

She felt like she'd lost something with that term of address after he'd finally called her by her name and naught else. It stung. "No, nothing else. Thank you Gendry." She told him before turning and taking her leave. She felt his eyes on her back but didn't turn to meet his expression as she escaped the oppressive heat of the forge.

When she left the stone hewn building, she found herself once again uncertain of where to go. The wind picked up as she stood undecided on the moderately busy street. A familiar howl picked up, followed by several others in the near distance. She turned and began striding towards the gates that would take her to the forest beyond the keep, sticking to the edge of the path in an attempt to remain unnoticed.

It didn't take long before she was trekking along the well-trod snow immediately surrounding the walls which grew deeper and wetter the further she went until the sounds of the camps became muffled and faded completely. She saw signs of them before she actually caught a glance of any fur or footprints obvious to one who was familiar with the sight leading towards what she knew to be a grove deep in the wood.

She heard shuffling ahead and scattered growling as she approached as she slowed to a stop as she listened. "Nymeria?" She called gently after a moment's hesitation. A whistled from her pursed lips followed and echoed on the still air as it moved through the dense forest. Movement manifested before her and she peered into the foliage shadowed by the thick layer of snow coating the canopy above. Piercing eyes caught hers and her breath stilled in her chest as she watched the great beast approach. "Hey girl." She murmured as the Direwolf came within reaching distance.

Nymeria allowed her to reach out and stroke her thick fur, but her head remained raised on watchful, ears twitching to catch the sounds surrounding them. "What's wrong girl? What is it?" A second wolf came into the light, this one much smaller but almost identical in markings to the first. A third trailed behind but remained a weary dozen or so feet back, watching the petite human interact with the first two.

Arya studied the smallest member with bubbling excitement. "Is this your pup?" Arya questioned allowed, reaching out again to stroke Nymeria before moving to introduce her scent to the clearly still adolescent wolf. The young male snuffed over her hand and forearm, stepping closer as his confidence and curiosity grew.

Direwolves, Arya knew, were one of the few breeds that didn't stop having litters just because of the Winter season- in the Far North, nearly every day was Winteresque afterall and so if that were the case the wouldn't survive there anymore than they were seen roaming the South. Instead, they tended to have smaller or larger litters depending on the severity of the weather at the time. Nymeria's own litter of siblings had been fairly large, but it had still been the end of summer then, and so survival not as scarce to come by. She wondered if this pup had been the only in the litter, or if there were others still hiding.

Nymeria's ear twitched again and her great head rose to peer out into the trees off to the North. "What's wrong girl? Can you hear them coming in the distance?" She asked, knowing the others had been spotted breeching the wall three days prior. At the last council they estimated they had approximately four days minimum before the army of Wrights would be upon them.

Arya wasn't sure how well she understood, but those large eyes turned to her with an intelligent gleam and she wondered how the pack would fare against the coming hoard. Would they simply be ignored or would they be slaughtered like so many men likely to come? "Do you want to come home girl? Come to Winterfell? You and your pack can stay within the walls in the Godswood. You used to like it there, do you remember?"

Nymeria's ear twitched again, though in her direction that time. Her great head dropped for a moment to nudge her shoulder and then her childhood companion turned and headed back into the shadows, her pup and mate following faithfully behind. Arya watched her go with a heavy heart, knowing it was probably for the best anyways- outside of the walls the pack could run freely in any direction, within the walls they would have been trapped along with the humans already there. She told herself not to be disappointment as she turned back towards the keep.

Almost as if he were waiting for her, Jaqen appeared just before she crested the ridge that would bring her into sight of the camps. He studied her as she approached and she wondered what he was reading on her face, regardless of her best attempt to remain blank and careless on the surface if nothing else.

He drew his dual swords without a word and she moved to follow willingly and thankful for the distraction. They remained there until the large circle of snow beneath their strides had become packed to a near solid sheet of ice and the shadows of the looming keep became long with the setting sun.

They were both worn from pauseless hours of sparring but felt better for the preparation of what was to come. Arya glanced across at him as they came to an upspoken stop. They were both flushed and mussed and she considered that it may be a good idea to bathe before returning to the keep if for no reason than to avoid further inquiry into her actions. "Do you want to join me at the hotspring before you return to camp?" She questioned aloud as she used the dry inside of her cloak to wipe her blades free of moisture before returning them to their place.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement and so she led the way to the nearby hidden entrance she'd visited so often since her return. She didn't see the frozen gaze of the man watching them go from a point in the distance.

Luckily when they arrived the snow hadn't had as much time to build back up, so it was fairly easy travel until the reached the threshold where the snow began to thin and melt from the approaching heat.

Arya had left a drying cloth and a few other things here purposefully some days before, knowing no others would likely stumble across it and so she didn't need worry about her stuff being used or taken. No one who swore themselves in service to The House and He of Many Faces could retain any sort of embarrassment in the face of nudity and so neither of them hesitated to strip themselves of their damp clothes and enter the mineral rich water. Arya breathed in deeply, feeling rejuvenated already as her lungs began to warm from the frigid air they'd been circulating.

"Will you stay for the fight?" Arya asked a minute or so later, breaking the easy silence as she reached for the piece of soap that was amongst her belongings beside the edge. "Or are you leaving soon?"

"A man does not yet know."

"They'll be here within days, you haven't much time to decide." She told him, though he already knew of his timeline.

"A girl needn't concern herself with a man's presence or purpose." He told her in what wasn't _quite_ a rebuke for her worry.

"You have another purpose here?" She asked astutely, regardless.

He ignored her inquiry and tilted his head to dip his head and cleanse his hair. They finished bathing in silence and then rose to dry themselves and dress.

"Look for me tomorrow morn. I will require your assistance." Jaqen stated.

"Sure." She responded from where she sat on a dry rock beside the pool, toweling dry her growing hair. "Good Eve, Jaqen." She offered quietly as he left.

The next morning found Arya in the practice yard, awaiting an event of which she had no information for which to prepare herself. She wasn't interacting with anyone else in the courtyard, but rather watching the going-ons with keen eyes from the shadows along the wall beneath the overhead walk. When she spotted him, she knew it was him despite the unfamiliar face he wore. His bearing was the same, his sense of self, despite the foreign mannerism he was displaying to match his new appearance.

He stopped just inside the gates and his eyes landed on her with unerring accuracy as always. She stepped forward and approached him with steady strides as he too moved towards her. Rather than waiting until she reached him or speaking only to her, he stopped and stated a loud and unwavering voice "I require a meeting with the war council presiding within this Keep."

The men sparing and those milling around the edges all turned to stare curiously at the nondescript man wearing plain black wear and a unadorned black travelling cloak. "And you are?" Robb asked from above. Arya had paused her own strides when he spoke and glanced up to see her eldest brother standing with his Lady Wife on the walkway overhead.

Jaqen bowed his head shallowly. "A messenger, Your Grace. From my House to yours." He announced, allowing a hint that Arya knew no one else there would likely get.

"What is your name and from where do you hale, Messenger?" Robb pressed.

"You may call me Zalyne, Your Grace, and I hale from the Free City of Braavos at the behest of the Sealord himself bearing greetings and gifts, should they be accepted."

Robbs eyes darted to his sister down below, questions immediately coming to mind. "I will gladly hear your message." He offered.

"My message is not for any one man, King or not, but for the council as a whole."

"Then I welcome you to join us in the Council chambers." He glanced to the soldiers standing at intervals around the courtyard. "My men will escort you. Sister, won't you join me? We'll send messengers to bid the council join us."

Arya remained still as two men stepped forward and led Jaqen to the main entrance. Only then did she turn and make her own way to the narrow stairs that would allow her to join her brother and Good-Sister. She followed as they made their way back inside the warmth of the keep and to Robbs own personal meeting chambers. "Do you know that man?" Robb questioned after he'd given orders and sent off several men to gather the council.

"I've never seen him before this." Arya told him truthfully. "Nor am I familiar with that name." That was less true. Zalyne himself was the Sealord who'd uncloaked Braavos and brought news of its existence to the world, 111 years after its creation built upon the slaves of Volantes, but she doubted her brother knew Braavosi history to be familiar with such a well-known and common name in Essos. "I have no more an idea why he asks for audience than you do, Brother."

Robb studied her closely and gave into her denial after only a moments hesitation. The remained in somewhat silted silence until one of the men Robb had sent away returned, at which time they trailed from the smaller room to join up with the bulk of the council gathering together. Arya moved further away from her brother and approaching family to join with the Lannister party, as was expected of her since joining their council.

Though she didn't look at him directly, she saw Jaime out of the corner of his eye and he looked even more blasé and cold than he normally did, Lannister stoicism on par with his Fathers in that instance, though she hadn't an idea what had set him off this time for his didn't for he didn't even bother deem send her a glance upon her arrival.

They made their way into the room and to their designated seats amidst the whispers of the others wondering at their unexpected summoning. They were quieted as one when Robb rose to address the room. "Thank you all for coming so quickly and please know I apologize for the unexpected nature of todays meeting. We have received a guest hailing from Braavos who bid speak with the council as a whole." He paused to turn to face the unknown man waiting patiently to the side. "Master Zalyne, the floor is yours. What message do you have for us?"

Jaqen nodded gracefully and stepped forward to gain the attention of the room. When he spoke, it was in a lilting, accent tinted voice that kept their focus fully upon him.

"Your Grace, Ladies, and Lordships, I come bring good tidings from the Sealord of Braavos. News of this unnatural enemy has spread far across the Narrow Sea and your plight has been heard by many. My Lord sends help in the form of a great gift. Arriving later today will be a dozen barrels of pure Wildfire to spread across the fields beyond your fortifications. A single burning arrow and the first wave of their forces will be decimated. Tiz a great weapon to aid in your defense."

Arya heard Robb stutter over himself at the proclamation but she only had eyes from the man beside her who had paled so rapidly she feared he might lose consciousness. She remembered the story he had told of the Mad King and couldn't imagine how he felt at knowing he was going to witness the might of such a merciless and unstoppable weapon again first hand.

"And where did you master gain access to so much Wildfire?" She heard Robb question and looked back at Jaqen to observe his response.

"The Mad King left stores of it all over Westeros, if one knows where to look and who to talk to. I was able to procure an amount on your behalf to help you in the coming fight."

"That's very generous of you." Robb told him coolly. "And what does your master have to gain from sending you to help us?"

"My master makes his fortune on trade between the West and the East. Without a West to trade with, he'll lose half of his trade routes. He understands the importance of winning this fight."

Robb looked around the room, making eye contact with those who had the most pull in a bid to gain their advice.

"We should take every defense we can get." The young Lady of Bear Isle stated from her seat part way down the long room. "The more of them we can destroy before the reach us, the better our odds shall be of surviving."

"We aren't really in a position to turn him away." Jon agreed softly, two of his own men at his side and seated some distance from his family.

The first few comments opened the door for the others to pipe up and there was a pretty good mixture of those in favor of accepting the gift of Wildfire and those who opposed it- either on principle of the weapon itself, or out of mistrust for the stranger offering it, and a couple simply because someone else spoke in its favor.

Those in the Lannister party remained silent, instead taking in the opinions of all else who offered them first. There was finally a pause in the upheaval and Arya felt the gaze on her before she heard his voice. "And you, Lady Arya?" Robb questioned directly, drawing her eyes. "You've spent some time in Braavos. Is this 'Sealord' someone worthy of our trust?"

Arya found herself glancing almost apologetically at the Lannister Son as she responded in favor. "Aye, the Sealord is a good man and he does do quite a lot of trade with Westeros. This man speaks the truth. I believe the gift to be in good faith."

"And do you then think we should accept it?" He pressed, curiously. The room remained silent and she could feel their gazes upon her even as she continued to look steadily back at her eldest brother.

"I think we would be foolish to refuse such a formidable weapon, no matter who may offer it." That time she felt Jaime flinch more than she saw it, for his face was stony and blank despite its pallor. A mummer of agreement rose in her wake.

"All in favor?" Robb questioned and received the agreement of the majority of the room. "Alright then." He stated, looking back at the still patiently standing Jaqen. "We accept your generous offer. When shall we expect it to arrive?"

The next few days passed in a blur of preparations and tension as the oppressive knowledge that they were running out of time continued to weigh down on them. There was so much Arya wanted to do, so much she wanted to say to various people in her life, but it all felt so petty in the face of such a threat. She had attempted to talk to Jaime once again a day or so after the council, but he'd treated her just as coolly as before and she refused to bare the brunt of whatever anger he held.

She'd managed to have a rather silted conversation with Sansa that surprisingly didn't result in either of them fleeing or storming from the room, and she'd born a rather uncomfortable and unexpected hug from her mother, who seemed to be falling apart at the seems the closer they came to battle.

The day before they expected the hoard to arrive, Arya returned to the smith to retrieve her requested weapon, for she wanted to have as many useable defenses on her person as she could comfortably carry.

When she arrived, she found it bustling as the men working over the forges as quickly as they physically could in an attempt to finish as many blades as they could. She wove in between them, the hammering of the dragon glass piercing to her ears from the sheer volume of it, but she didn't falter as she pressed her way through.

She finally came upon the man she was looking for and found him peering down the length of the handle of her design. It appeared finished and looked just as she'd envisioned. "That for me?" She asked, grabbing his attention.

Gendry turned to look at her and then handed her the staff. He stepped back and watched as she twirled it a time to test its balance. "This'll work." She stated, satisfied, still taking in the lines and the detail of it.

There was a moment of silence as Gendry watched her before he spoke up. "You asked me why I was here, despite my odds. Last time you saw me you wanted me to come to Winterfell." He said, still watching her thoughtfully. "I took the long road, but.." He trailed off, but he needn't have continued for his point to be obvious.

"What did the Red Woman want with you?" She questioned instead of responding directly to his statement, not yet making eye contact.

Gendry turned his eyes away and then himself, pacing several steps before he answered. "She wanted my blood, to cast a spell." He said finally, eyes baring a haunted gleam as he glanced at her sideways.

"Why your blood?" Arya questioned astutely.

"I'm Robert Baratheon's bastard." He announced suddenly, the words rushed. Arya stopped fidgeting with her new weapon in sudden shock as she registered the words. Wide grey eyes looked back across at him as he continued. "I didn't know until she told me. "She tied me up, stripped me down, put leaches all over me…" He trailed off.

Arya paced closer, passing just in front of him and then showing him her back as she asked "Was that your first time?"

"Well yeah, I've never had leaches put all over me-" He responded with a defensive edge but she spoke over him.

"Your first time with a woman?" She asked as she strode further away and set the weapon down so she could turn to face him unhindered. She knew what she was asking could lead down a dangerous road, but her thoughts had taken a dangerous turn over recent days and she knew there were things she wanted to do before she died, however much she would deny such things if asked.

"What-?" He stuttered as he followed her. "I, I didn't, I wasn't _with_ her-"

"Were you with other girls?" Arya pressed, face outwardly calm even as she asked herself if she really wanted to continue with this line of questioning… there, with _him_. "Before that? In Kings Landing?" But what other prospects did she really have if she wanted to experience such a thing? She was well and truly out of time had had essentially burned her other prospects- or, at least, the ones she would be trust to lie with in turn.

He looked at her, stunned. His mouth opened and various noises escaped as he attempted to assemble some speech together in response. She continued to stare him down, unfaltering as she watched him stutter over himself. "You don't remember?" She finally asked as they seemed to be getting nowhere. Part of her was glad it was so loud in the building that it would be near impossible to be overheard just then.

It took him another moment but he was finally able to answer, "Yes, there was."

"One?" She pressed. "Two? Twenty?"

"Well I didn't keep count-" He stated defensively.

She stared at him, deadpanned. "Yes, you did." She stated and then blinked at him calmly as she waited for him to respond.

"Three." He finally told her. Her eyes dropped as she considered her response.

She stepped closer, mind racing though none of the inner conflict showed on her face. "We're probably going to die soon…" She mused thoughtful, grey eyes dark as she studied him.

"Aye, we are." He told her, voice deeper as he watched her approach. He'd already lost his shirt some hours before, so his bare chest was on display, bronzed and gleaming from exertion. She could feel a heat growing between her thighs and she _wanted_ so badly to experience how it felt to share her body with a man, to give over to the passion that had sparked in her so many years before and yet had gone ignored.

A clanging came suddenly and loudly from behind them and Arya jumped as if burned as she glanced around at the others still hard at work. She looked back to see Gendry watching her with lust in his eyes and knew if she continued to press him that he'd give in to what she was seeking, but… Is that really, truly, what she wanted? Was he who she wanted? Sure, they'd been close those years ago, had looked out for and helped protect each other on the road, but… Well, she didn't really know him, not anymore. He'd chosen the Brotherhood over her and had suffered for his choice when the Red Woman came into the picture, all without her.

She took a step back, feeing a regretful rush hit her at what she was doing. She picked back up the weapon from where she'd set it as she moved closer to the exit. "Thank you, Gendry. This is perfect, I couldn't have asked for better." She told him. "I must go, but mayhap shall see you later."

She turned fully away and made her way over to the door and out into the cold air. She heard the door open after she'd closed it and turned to glance over her shoulder. She saw him stand there and watch after her, eyes confused at the sudden change. She didn't say anything, nor go back to try and sooth over the hurt she could see growing in him but instead turned away and made for the keep.

It was getting dark and those present in the keep had elected to spend their last night before the battle in celebration and drink to send themselves off to whatever might happen on the morrow. Arya first found herself in the company of the hound, but excused herself when he was joined by Thoros and Beric, wanting less miserable company to spend what was potentially her last night with.

She found herself wandering towards the Lannister camp and eventually standing on the outskirts. She could see Jaime and Bronn seated at a campfire further down from the head where the Lannister Lord was positioned with his own council. She felt a bitterness flair in her when she noted the whores buzzing through the camp, one seated close enough to Jaime that she was practically on his lap.

She didn't approach at the sight but Bronn spotted her and gestured in her direction. Jaime looked across the camp and met her eyes blankly. Bronn leaned closer to speak in his hear, what was said Arya couldn't have guessed, but it caused the Kingsguard to push the girl further to the side so he could stand unhindered.

When he moved towards her it was with a lazy almost uncaring grace and he took his time before he finally reached her. "Princess." He stated, even sounding dismissive. "What brings you to our camp this night? I thought you would have plenty to occupy yourself without us." She looked past him for a moment to see Bronn scooting in on the whore left behind, though she looked disappointment at losing her first choice and made little effort to hide it.

"What does that mean?" Arya questioned, confused at his tone.

He raised a golden brow at her but did not respond to her inquiry when he did speak. "Why are you here, Princess?"

"You know I don't like when you call me that." She told him with a frown. "I was.. I hoped we could talk."

"Well… We're both here, and we're exchanging words so.. mission accomplished, then?" He offered sardonically.

"Somewhere without an audience, perhaps?" She asked, eyes darting to those she could see watching them.

"Fine, lead the way." He told her carelessly and then followed willingly enough as she turned and began moving towards the hot spring, though she knew it was dangerous with how close the Others might be considering its distance from the gates. It only took a few minutes to reach the hidden entrance and they were soon beside the steamy pool. "Well?" Jaime asked again, seeming angrier for some reason she hadn't figured out. "What was it you wished to speak to me about? And here of all places?"

"Here of all places?" Arya questioned, wanting to know the source of his hidden rage. "I thought we had a rather pleasant experience here before, I did not expect it to bring you more anger. Would you tell me what I have done to earn such emotions? I've already accepted that you will not marry, I hold no ill will towards you for that decision… but, are you still angry at me? Is that why you refuse to so much as look at me?"

Burning green eyes turned to meet hers head on as if in challenge. "I refuse you nothing." He denied. "Nothing except my hand that was not available to begin with. It is no fault of my own if you cannot accept your own failure."

"No, that's not, I didn't mean it that way." She told him, becoming frustrated wither herself for her inability to articulate her thoughts how she wanted. "What I mean is that I care for you, whether we marry or not- the same as I'd feel if the idea of marriage between us had never come up. I just, I care for you, not your father, nor your hand, or anything you can offer me except yourself. It's really rather simple." She said, tone softening towards the end. "I am sorry I lost sight of that amidst the politics."

Her words seemed to get through to him, at least somewhat, if not completely. She watched his jaw clench before he spoke. "I refuse you nothing." He repeated, pointedly.

"Nothing?" She repeated, stepping closer as hope began to bubble up. He tilted his head down to watch her approach and she could feel her skin pinkening from the heat as she drew closer to him and the spring behind him. "We're probably going to die soon." She told him, repeating her earlier words but the didn't feel wrong this time around.

"Aye." He agreed, word hardly more than a rumble.

"I don't want to die not knowing what it's like to lie with you." She told him, knowing it was the truth and knowing that her desire to lie with him was much more potent than her desire to lie with a man in general. "Forget your father, forget us getting married, or not getting married. I just want to be with you at least once."

He still didn't move and she thought he might refuse her. "You seemed more than willing to lie with that whore.. Am I really such a step down?" She questioned aloud, beginning to fee hurt. "At least I don't require payment first."

His expression grew more thoughtful and she could feel the moment he gave in to her. "No, not a step down." He told her before grabbing her arms almost roughly and pulling her close. She was quite a bit shorter than him, she he used his strength to lift her to him so that he didn't have to bow over her.

A startled grunt escaped her at the sudden passion and she wrapped her arms around his neck in a bid to gain her balance, her strong legs quickly following to wrap around his waist. He spun around and laid her almost carelessly upon the drying cloth that still lay beside the pool, stretched flat so it would dry before she had need of it again. "You sure you want this?" He grunted in her ear as his hands moved to the clasps of her clothing. "No going back after this."

She was honestly having second thoughts at his aggression, it not being what she had expected him to be like, but she was too stubborn to back out after finally getting him to break his composure. "I'm sure." She told him, voice almost breathy as he bit down and sucked on her neck beneath her ear. Luckily he didn't reman there for long as he was working on removing her top.

He had it free after only a few moments and she was soon exposed to the air. Being exposed fully to him felt different than being exposed before anyone else had felt. She could feel goosepimples erupting across her flesh and her nipples tightening until they were little more than hard nubs protruding from her breasts.

His callused hands came up to stroke over her bare rib cage and up over the more sensitive flesh to pluck roughly at the hard numbs before him. His mouth came down again to roll one between his teeth and the sensation was so overwhelming she couldn't decide if she liked it or not. One hand continued to toy with her other breast as the other moved down to untie the laces of her breeches.

He pulled the strings until they loosened and then his hand burrowed down without further hesitation to burry themselves in the folds of her womanhood, seemingly searching for something. He brushed a fingertip over the hidden nub and she rose up with the force of that first jolt of pleasure. She could feel that desperate heat coming back to pool between her thighs but this time a flood of wetness accompanied the sensation.

He pulled back suddenly and harshly tugged her pants down her slender legs until she was fully exposed. He pulled her thighs further apart without much care and she felt a rush of heat at knowing he could see the most hidden and intimate part of her. He rubbed up against that nub again, this time with a curled knuckle that he stroked further down to press over the slit of her in a tease of what was to come.

The pleasure from his practiced hands almost outweighed the lingering embarrassment she felt as how he was handling her- almost as if he didn't care who it was beneath him, for his hands were practiced enough at getting what he wanted from a woman's body without much need for thought.

He moved closer and she felt the blunt and silky tip of his manhood press against her for the first time. He didn't hesitate, didn't give her a second to get use to the foreign sensation, before using the small amount of wetness he'd pulled from her folds to ease his way as he pushed firmly and unwaveringly into her heat, forcing her body to stretch and accommodate him without care for her discomfort.

Her eyes squeezed shut at the painful shift she felt as he broke through her tightest spot and was suddenly able to move a lot more freely within her. It ached and stung as she felt the flesh within her tug and pull, her arousal completely drained. Her hands reached up to grip his biceps and she dug her fingertips into his flesh in a bid to control the sensations he tore from her with his own flesh that felt too large to be true moving inside of her.

His large hand came up to grip her slender waist and then stroked up to drag across her nipple once more, leading to a twisted sensation that wasn't pleasant or unpleasant on its own. She heard a grunt escape her own throat and his angle shifted and his speed increased slightly. The new angle seemed to let him slip even deeper within her but also brought another flair of pleasure to life.

His hand dropped to her hip and he used his strength to lift her bottom up, forcing her legs to wrap around him once again or else be left to flail uncontrollably with the force of his thrusts. His pelvis ground into the pleasurable nub he'd toyed with in the beginning and seemed to help the ache fade into the background as the pleasure began to filter in once more.

Wanting to help the sensation along and determined to find her own pleasure in this exchange, despite her partners apparent single minded focus, she pushed a slim hand down in between their bodies so her fingers could reach that nub and she could stroke it much more directly and firmly. The pleasure spread much more quickly with the manual stimulation and she could feel it cresting and growing to an extreme she'd never experienced before.

The pleasure thrummed and throbbed with her heartbeat and she could feel her inner passage convulse and squeeze down on the flesh moving smoothly within herself. Her leg twitched around Jaime's back and he seemed to cotton on to what was happening for his grabbed hold of her buried arm and forced it free and up beside her head. He gathered both slender wrists into one hand and then used his free arm to hook under the back of her knee and force her body to curl up beneath him. With her even more exposed to him, he grounded against she neither region relentlessly, pelvis once again slamming harshly against her nub while his manhood continued to stroke the inside of her until she couldn't hold back anymore and the pleasure gave way and crested into mind shattering waves.

Jaime continued to slam into her over and over again as he chased his own pleasure. He finally stilled, wrapped completely around her and holding her so close to his body that she could feel his manhood thicken further and then release waves of heat within her as his hips made tiny, aborted thrusts as he continued to empty himself of his release.

He seemed to pause for a long minute once he was finished before he released his hold on her sore body and pulled back. She grunted again as he pulled free and her leg dropped back to rest on the ground. He shifted back to rest on his haunches and she looked up to try and get a read on his expression, feeling at a loss of what to do now that the event was over and she was left laying upon the ground with a mixture of fluids dripping from her sore and swollen feeling womanhood.

His eyes ran almost carelessly over her body but froze when the reached the tenderest bit of her. "Arya.." He stuttered. "Are you.. were you, still a maiden?" he asked at the gleam of her murky virgin blood dripped down on the fabric beneath her.

She pulled back, startled at his question, and forced herself to sit up and draw her legs in despite the tenderness. "Of course,… Though you, you already knew that?" She told him, though it sounded like a question when it escaped her lips for they had spoken of it before.

He seemed to pale as he took her in, eyes scanning over her. "I saw you bring another man here mere days ago. I.. I saw you both emerge freshly bathed. I assumed…"

Arya forced herself to stand and move towards the spring, knowing she needed to cleanse the proof from her flesh before she returned. "You assumed I'd lay with another man without a thought, simply because you refused me?" She questioned bluntly, not turning to look at him as she ran her hands gently down her inner thighs.

"Arya, I'm sorry, I thought- I'm so sorry." She could hear him moving closer and suddenly didn't wish for him to touch or attempt to comfort her.

"There's nothing to apologize for." She rebuked him. "I got what I wanted, as did you. We'll call it a mutually satisfying exchange that we need ever speak of again."

She heard him froze and wondered how he would respond, asked herself how she wanted him to respond, but couldn't answer her own question. "You should get back to your camp before your father notices you're gone." She told him, giving him an out. "Good luck tomorrow, Jaime. I truly do hope you survive what is to come."

She heard him move closer again and felt his hand come down on her shoulder. She allowed herself to be turned though she did not meet his gaze, even as he tilted his head down to meet her lips with a tenderness that had been absent thus far. She could almost taste his regret as he pulled back and stated, "Good Luck Arya. May the Gods be in your favor." His lips came down again but to press against her forehead, where they lingered for several seconds.

She could hear him dressing himself but did not turn to watch him, even as she heard him turn to go.

Notes: …. Thoughts? …


	17. Chapter 17

The horns sounded the next eve and everyone who may have felt rough still from too much drinking the night before suddenly became much more clear-headed at the knowledge that the battle would very soon be upon them. That first horn was a signal, one they'd all been waiting for with somewhat baited breath.

They'd suspected the fight would come to them at dusk or later, assuming the Others would want to take every advantage they could. By the time the light was fading on the horizon, everyone was in their place and ready to face the threat they'd spent so long preparing for. Arya herself stood upon a beside her siblings overlooking the lands in front of the keep- waiting for the approaching army to be in just the right position before they deployed their first defense.

They watched as the first lines of their enemy came within viewing distance for the first time and the line of them seemed to spread across the entire horizon without break. One of the men nearby swore and murmured that they were all going to die. "Valar Morghulis." Arya said softly in response, though it hadn't been aimed directly at her.

While most of the men surrounding her became more and more on edge the closer the threat came, the more focused and honed Arya herself became. She stood still as Robb ordered the first assault and their archers took aim. Half a dozen burning arrows soared across the field and caught the glowing green lines of the wildfire they'd left leading to the open fields they had drenched.

The green flame lit the night in an eerie glow and Arya understood how it could feature so prominently in someone's nightmares, for it was as beautiful as it was deadly. Something similar to a screech rent the air and reached those in the keep despite the distance still between them.

The seemingly unending army continued to press forward, uncaring of the casualties that continued to fall to the still burning flame beneath their feet. Finally, eventually, pathways amongst the flame began to remain and some of the wrights began to make it through in spurts. A blood curdling roar sounded from behind and several of those in attendance ducked from instinct alone at the sound.

Arya watched as the Queen and her dragons took flight, her brother who wasn't sitting on the one beside her, much to Arya's consternation. The trio rapidly approached the spreading breeches and rained a different kind of wildfire down upon their heads. They made several passes before retreating out of reach, as had been the plan. It wouldn't do to lose one of their strongest weapons so early in the battle, after all.

The next phase of their defense was the first of the trenches, which were still covered by netting and ground cover to make them invisible to the unknowing eye. The next wave of surviving corpses had made it almost two-thirds of the way across before their combined weight dragged them down and into the dragon-glass lined pit.

Still they continued to come, piling up in the trench until they were simply walking across the fallen bodies of their comrades with hardly a stumble. Robb gave the signal and the next wave of burning arrows were launched, striking the wild-fire coated tar lining the trenches and setting the endless pile of bodies alight.

After the first trench came another empty field coated in the eerie green liquid, and then the several rows of trenches they'd dug initially. Still the enemy continued to come, seemingly endless in number. The dragons made their fourth pass, but they were getting to close to the gates to continue attacking the front lines, and they weren't yet ready to try them against the still-unseen Night King.

When they made it over the last of the trenches and were still coming strong, the woman and children who weren't fighting were given orders to ride South in a move they'd been hoping to avoid if possible. Even still, they couldn't risk the most vulnerable of them being left for easy slaughter and so had to hope the Gods would keep them safe in their journey.

Once the smaller party was clear, those sending them off returned to their secondary positions as they waited for the hand-to-hand combat to be upon them. It was only a matter of time at that point- the archers and trebuchet operators doing all they could to keep the approaching lines at bay.

They eventually broke through to the final clearing that had been left open purposefully as the intended point of the battle. The final trench surrounded its edge, but was built quite differently- with narrow paths giving way to steep edges hewn into the design in a final effort to bottle neck the wave as it reached them.

The Dothraki and the Unsullied were sent out as the first and second wave to meet them with mixed success. It was the last sight Arya saw from above before she headed down to the ground level to join Bran in the Godswood as the next part of their plan. Her brother was convinced the Night King would come for him there, and who were they to doubt his vision? While the rest of the battle raged, a few key players began moving to their own positions for a much more targeted defense.

Arya was halfway through the courtyard when the first of the wrights broke through and flooded the outer keep. Custom weapon already in hand, she began swinging the deadly purple blade around with a grace that was unmatched as she continued to press her way in the direction she needed to go. Other individual fights were taking place around her with a growing frequency and she knew she needed to break free before they were overwhelmed.

As things became more crowded, Arya found she had less room to swing her blade that didn't put anyone on the side of the living at risk of joining their enemy. She snapped the handle onto its custom spot hanging from her belt and unsheathed her matching blades in the same smooth motion. She swiped in a graceful arch and decapitated the beast directly before her and then had time to pass both blades to one hand so she could drag them along the other and prey for the Lords Light to come to her aid.

Both blades were engulfed in the holy flame and she found herself able to breath as she could focus on her next move without having to pull her swings or risk friendly fire and self-inflicted causalities. With her altered strategy, she was able to carve her way to the smaller side gate that would take her to her final destination. She turned and moved backwards to prevent herself from being followed without her knowledge.

Howls sounded on the distance and Arya's head turned towards the noise, though she couldn't hope to see anything past the stone wall beside her. For scarcely a second she had a flash of what Nymeria might be seeing as she lunged for the throat of a Wright and tore its head clear from its body- before her vision cleared and she was once again stood by the entrance to the Godswood. She shook the oddness off and took her position hiding in the shadows. More obvious solders stood around guarding her younger brother and they could only hope her own presence to remain unnoticed until it was time.

A piercing screech suddenly split the ear, followed by a resounding and long lasting crash. Arya froze, wondering which of the dragons just fell, for she couldn't imagine such a noise to be caused by anything else. She only hoped it wasn't the one baring her foolhardy brother. It felt like an age passed before the Godswood was breeched, and Arya had the sensation of being terribly helpless considering her position and lack of current contribution to the fight while they stood waiting to be found.

She'd quenched her blades already and held naught but the Valerian Steel dagger her younger brother had given her all those days before in her left hand, ready to strike at any given time and refusing to allow herself to lose focus as the minutes drug on endlessly.

Finally, after an age of being forced to listen to the battle without taking part, a commotion began at the exterior entrance of the Godswood and the sounds of fighting suddenly became much closer. She watched from her hidden spot as the men guarding Bran began to fall one by one, until he sat along before the weirwood tree, surrounded by naught by bodies strewn across the ground around him.

She watched her brave and ageless younger brother face off against the single greatest threat currently facing their world with nary a twitch or flinch overtaking his expression in the face of such unnaturalness.

Neither Bran nor the Night King moved to speak, though their eyes remained locked and both clearly read more into the situation that Arya could hope to without her brothers own knowledge and understanding of how things had come to be as they were. She watched, frozen and with baited breath, as the unnatural atrocity before her reached for his ice-hewn blade.

She waited until the very last moment possible, not wanting to give him any time to react or retaliate. Just as the creature moved to draw free the blade and swing it at her brother, she leapt high in the air and aimed to land with her the weight of her body behind the Valerian Steel blade she still held in her left hand. The undead being seemed to sense her somehow and twisted before she could reach him, catching her by the throat and holding her body in the air like a weightless ragdoll.

Her well-honed instincts kicked in and she let the blade fall, only to catch it will her less dominant right hand and plunge it into an unprotected strip of abdomen without hesitation using a move she'd practiced a thousand times before. Unnatural blue eyes widened just before he exploded into a shower of shattered ice, followed by the others in an unstoppable chain reaction.

Arya watched it all from her crouch where she'd fallen with wide eyes, for it had worked better than they could have imagined. She drew in a deep breath for what felt like the first time that night and turned to look at her brother to ensure he was alright. He gazed back at her, looking at her straight on for what may have only been the second or third time since she'd returned.

The battle may have ended suddenly, but those who fought continued to work past daylight cresting the horizon and shedding light on the nights massacre. Hundreds of men were dead, with thrice as many injured. Aid camps had been set up in patches around the keep where clear stretches of land remained open and accessible.

Arya was one of many who spent the early morning hours dragging corpses into a line in hope of their family identifying them. They were sorted by the colors they wore but each party seemed to have a pretty even number lost, with the exception of the Dothraki and the Unsullied, who bore the greatest number of losses.

It was exhausting work and she felt well and truly beat down before they were relieved by a fresher group of men. She made her way back to the main courtyard, using a clean spot on her arm to wipe the cold sweat covering her brow. She couldn't wait to wash the filth of her skin, for the old blood had long grown tacky in the cold and it stuck unpleasantly to her chilled flesh.

She was halfway to the keeps' doors when her name was shouted from nearby. She was surprised for a moment to see her mother rushing towards her but remembered that a rider had been sent after the fleeing party to bring them back home some hours before. The elder woman drew her into a strong hug despite the questionable liquids coating her and she could ear her mother sniffling close to her ear.

Arya shifted uncomfortably but lifted a hand to pat her mother's back in a half-hearted effort to reassure the woman. "I'm okay, Mother." She said aloud when it seemed the woman had no intentions of letting her go. She glanced around feeling rather helpless only to see that her siblings had joined them while she was distracted.

She was glad to see them all looking well and standing unhindered before her. Her mother finally let her go and she was free only for a moment before she was grabbed again by the first of her siblings wanting to share their combined relief that they'd all, somehow, survived the night.

She was shuffled inside before she could glance around to take stock of who else was present, but she was too tired to protest and so allowed herself to be led to a thankfully already waiting bath in her chambers. She was so pleased she didn't even mind that her mother and sister both stayed and she stripped down and submerged herself without complaint.

Wanting to feel clean, she allowed herself to slip down until she was fully submerged in the large tub. The water was hot on her skin but she bore it no mind as she reached up and used her hands to rub harshly at her face and scalp. When she allowed herself to come back above the surface, she found her mother seated on the lip of the tub, soap in hand and ready to wash her hair. She felt as if she were a child once more but she wasn't sure she would have had the energy to do it herself just then and so allowed the help.

Aside from her back, she refused to allow the woman to assist her with washing her body and completed that task on her own before standing to escape the now murky water. She dried herself off with a large cloth identical to the one still laying beside the hot spring and then allowed her sister to help drape her in a sleeping gown, however much she'd normally refuse to wear such a thing.

She was sat down before her vanity so her mother could comb and plait her hair into a simple pattern for her to sleep in. Once finished, the woman moved around to her side and dropped down to rest on her knees beside her exhausted daughter. She reached up to stroke the flesh that was quickly regaining its Northern pallor as her Eastern tan faded into memory and Arya was surprised to see moisture gathering in the woman's Tully blue eyes.

"Oh, my precious daughter." Catelyn whispered as a tear escaped to trickle down her cheek. "I was so afraid for you, at knowing you were taking part in this madness and there was nothing I could do to stop you. You've always been stubborn to a fault- so like your father, even in your youth- but now? I can hardly believe the woman that you've become- you're truly not my little wild-child anymore, are you? You're so brave, so strong, you've survived so much.. You've become this amazing, independent grown woman all on your own. I'm so proud of you." Her mother said waveringly. "And I know your father would be just as proud."

Arya swallowed hard at the unexpected surge of emotion attempting to choke her up. She reached up to cover her mothers hand with her own, noting silently how thin and wrinkled the woman's hand was becoming, the grey streaks cutting through her vibrant red hair, and realized for perhaps the first time just how aged her mother was becoming through all of this. "I did miss you, you know." Arya admitted in return. "While I was gone. Some days getting home to you and the others was all I could think about. I'm so glad you're all okay- truly. You're my family, my blood. We might not agree on everything, but we can all agree on that."

"Aye," Catelyn agreed, another tear escaping even as she let out a quite and choked laugh and drew her daughter into her most reciprocal hug yet since her return. "We can all agree on that." She pulled back and cleared her throat, dabbing her eyes as she stood. "Now come, let's get you to bed, you deserve a bit of rest."

**Notes:**

Hello to those of you who are still reading! A couple of things to help explain why certain events are playing out as they are:

*This is a short chapter following a very long one, because I didn't want to leave you all hanging on the unpleasantness.

*Jaime was always a bit of a d*ck in the actual story line. I found myself disappointed with him time after time, however much he managed to remain one of my favorite characters. As much as he's central to a key relationship in this story, I wanted to hold true to his faults and force him to work on his flaws and attempt to better himself. Arya's hardly a delicate flower and if anyone can put up with a man as privileged, strong willed and stubborn as Jaime Lannister, it's Arya. I hope you bare with me while we work to get him there in a hopefully realistic way.

* I was attempting to keep as true to cannon here as possible- Jaime slept with Breanne and Arya slept with Gendry in cannon. Arya had her mind set on losing her virginity before the battle and I had it happen with Jaime rather than Gendry for the plot of this story. As nice and fluffy as it could have been, I didn't really see either of them in the headspace of soft lovey sex as that point in their relationship development, but they were both upset enough to use the other for their own gain despite knowing it likely wasn't the best idea they could've made.

* The Battle of Winterfell was never intended to be a huge part of this story, aside from being an important part of the storyline itself; Even still, I hope it did not seem too rushed, I simply didn't want to spend 10,000 words re-writing most of what we already spent an hour watching, with a few small variations (I don't know about you, but I personally thought that fight sequence lasted much longer than it needed to). Now that we're past the necessity of it, we'll get back to the main plotline.

* We are definitely going to break 100,000 words with this story and I have a soft goal of hitting about 125,000 words with the rest of the plot points I want to cover.

* Thank you all for reading. I appreciate all of the feedback whether you love a chapter or hate it. I have noted the many comments referencing the delays between updates and I'll say this: My no-longer-quite-so-new job is stressful to the point it keeps me from sleeping some nights and I spend most of my waking hours thinking over some problem or another. It's very difficult for me to clear my head enough to not only focus on something else, but be in a focused mindset that allows my writing to flow without awkwardness. The three back to back updates that occurred over the holidays happened because I took a week vacation over Christmas and so had plenty of cozy time to drink coco and write. I promise you all I will continue to update as real life allows, but I will not force myself to write if I'm not feeling it.

Thank you to those of you who've stuck it out with me despite plot twists and long delays. 3


	18. Chapter 18

When Arya woke again, it felt as though days has passed when in fact night hadn't yet even fallen. She felt much refreshed, mind clear and body full of energy. She lay still at first, surprised to find herself resting upon her feather bed for he first time since that dreadful first night back in the keep. She'd kept to her makeshift bedroll beside the fire ever since and so it was odd to wake feeling rested and comfortable in one.

Never one to laze around once roused, she soon pushed herself to sit on the side of the bed, chill hitting her bare arms immediately, flimsy fabric doing little to protect her from the cold and flame burning low in the hearth. Wondering again at the practicality of such clothing, he wasted no time in dressing herself in truth and then found herself standing thoughtfully before her window, mind moving in a hundred different directions in the wake of their unexpected victory.

Despite the ease in which 'Not today' rolled off her tongue and her confidence in her own skill and ability, a part of her had truly expected and had accepted an inevitable meeting with He of Many Faces before dawn crested the morn and well, such an ending would have been much more simple an resolution than what she now found herself facing.

No, she shouldn't have expected a simple end to anything, for since when was her life ever easy? She was much more likely to face pain, heartache, and despair before finding any kind of peace. Rather, she would deal with whatever might come with a brave face and firm resolve as she'd faced everything else over the years. Telling herself such a thing helped, at least up until the point she left her room and traveled far enough to bypass the invisible threshold between the family's private wing and the public space within the keep.

She noticed the eyes first- eyes of the visiting Noblemen, commoners, and servants alike locking onto her and seeming to follow her every move. She felt it first as a prickling between her shoulder blades, but the more aware of it she became, the more aware of her they seemed to become in turn and the more eyes followed her path as she made her way towards the great hall, having noted the position of the sun through her bedroom window before departing and so knowing where she'd likely find those she most truly wanted to see.

The doors were opened for her before she could reach out and she nodded absently to the Northman watching her almost reverently as she passed by. "Princess." He deferred with a deep nod. Her eyes flicked to him briefly but her attention was caught almost immediately by her two elder brothers standing nearest of her family situated around the head table- for everyone was still taking their seats within the large room.

Her feet led her silently closer and it was Jon who noticed her first, angled more towards the door than their elder brother who had his shoulder and half of his back to her, his wife standing nearby with their youngest child held in her slim arms.

The man who shared so many of her own features locked his identical eyes with her own as he stepped quickly around the Northern King and crossed the distance between them. He reached her in a handful of quick steps before wrapping his small and slender sister in his strong arms and lifting her clear from the ground in his enthusiasm at seeing her hale and whole. The mans familiar scent- a combination of his preferred soap, hair oil, and the tang of his blade oil- tickled her nose and she found herself holding him back just as tightly as she allowed herself to give silent thanks that her family had also somehow managed to survive the night.

She was hardly set on her feet before another set of arms grabbed her close and held her tight- though thankfully allowed her feet to remain on the ground- and Robb showed his own happiness at her presence by holding her close for several long seconds.

"Good Sister." She heard a voice greet softly as Robb released her. She turned to see the Lady Talisa watching her with wide eyes. "I am so pleased to see you well. We worried for you all through the night."

"We?" Arya questioned, feeling at a bit of a loss in what to say. She hadn't had much direct interaction with the woman, after all, though she seemed kind enough and yet strong enough in her own right to be well suited to Robb. Truly, she hadn't given the woman much thought at all, though perhaps that wasn't fair of her now that the danger had passed and she was left with the still somewhat flimsy tatters of her family, still disjointed and just a bit broken, but alive and wanting to mend.

"Ah, I stayed with your Mother and your Sister, you see. Normally I'd stay to help the wounded but, well…" She trailed off, resting a slender hand on her still flat looking stomach. "I just couldn't risk it, you see." She laughed lightly, sounding somewhat uncomfortable as her rich brown eyes sought Arya's eldest brother, who still stood near.

"Oh! Of course." Arya responded automatically, though her mild was reeling with the news. Granted, she hadn't been around really any pregnant women since her mother bore Rickon, and she could hardly be expected to remember what that was like, but it almost seemed like there should have been some sign, some tell that would let the world know the woman before her was carrying another person within her stomach, but there had been nothing, nothing until the woman herself announced it. "Congratulations." She added belatedly, remembering that it was the normal response for such news.

"Thank you," Talisa responded with a small, content smile. She seemed lighter, Arya realized. Perhaps she'd been more worried about the battle, about her children and her husband, than she had shown. Beyond them, even, for she was the ruling Queen to Arya's homeland and thus held an inherent responsibility for those under the rule as well. Still, it must have been a relief to know her husband had survived to help bring the newest member of their family into the cold and unforgiving world of the North. Despite everything that had happened, the woman seemed to have a warm glow to her cheeks and an added sparkle to her eye.

She looked over the dark haired woman's' slender shoulder to catch on her remaining family. "I'm glad you are well, Good Sister." Arya told the woman, though the words seemed rather odd on her tongue and she felt at a loss of what else she could say, not really able to relate to her as much as she might try. "Please, if you'll excuse me."

"Of course." Talisa allowed, stepping aside with an easy smile and drifting closer to her husband, who reached out an arm to pull her closer to his side.

Arya tore her eyes away and strode quietly across the stone floor until she reached the table, here her Mother, sister, and two younger brothers already sat with the Noblest of their guests. Sansa spotted her first and rose quickly to her feet and nearly stumbled in her haste to reach her. "Arya!" She gasped as she reached her. It seemed it was to be a day of hugs, for her flame-haired sister drew her close with surprising strength in her lithe arms. "Praise the seven." She announced as she pulled back but remained close enough to tuck a strand of wavy hair behind her sisters' ear- Arya had tugged loose the sleep mussed plait but hadn't bothered to do anymore with it and so it hung in sleep-dried waves around her shoulders.

"I am glad to see you as well, sister." Arya said in exchange, pulling herself gently loose and taking a step back. She didn't remain free for long however, before her Mother took her own turn in expressing her relief and happiness. Arya bore it silently, gritting her teeth at one point as she began to feel twitchy but she was eventually let go in truth and allowed to take her own seat for supper.

She glanced around the rest of the table and those nearest to them as the room began to settle. Lord Tywin curled his lip in what passed as a true smile for the man in mixed company, and Arya nodded to him in turn before her eyes jumped almost dismissively over the man seated beside him. She nodded to Prince Trystane when he caught her eye and shot her a friendly grin. She took in the rest of the room with less notice and prickled her ears to listen in on various conversations nearby more out of habit than anything.

She wasn't truly paying attention to the conversation but noticed with the bulk of the surrounding attention turned to her in unison, as if waiting for her response. She cursed herself for not paying attention, even as she asked aloud, "Beg pardon? I'm afraid I didn't catch that."

Tywin shot her a look of rebuke she was already quite familiar with for her lack of focus, but she paid him little mind just then. She may have been pleased he too had survived, but she hadn't forgotten that that he was to blame for the current state of affairs between Jaime and herself… at least to some extent, even if things had evolved quite a bit since he had sparked everything to flame.

Robb cleared his throat lightly. "We wondered if you would be accompanying the Lannister army back to Kings Landing, or if you would be staying in Winterfell for a time?" He asked.

Her eyes darted from her brother to the old Lion seated nearby, and then further to the glacial green orbs she'd been avoiding so successfully until then. "I suppose I haven't really thought about it." She said, not quite truthfully for she had thought about it quite often in her prior daydream of what might happen should they succeed. "Perhaps I'll make my own way, take time to accomplish a few things I desire." She mussed.

She glanced up to see what seemed to be a general consensus of disagreement with her idea, amazingly enough coming from both parties in unison. "To be honest," She continued slyly. "I'm a bit surprised you don't have it all figured out for me already. You seem so keen to do so, after all- with our without my presence."

"Yes, well, I don't suppose many of us were certain we'd make it to this point." Robb told her, tone chiding her bold tongue- more she suspected due to their company than her comment itself. "Now that we have, we have quite a bit of planning left to do."

She raised the glass of wine that had been set beside her plate- darker in color than the watered down swill they'd been handing out- and tipped it towards her eldest brother. "To surviving the night." She told him, tone both apologetic and yet still edged in steel.

His lip twitched in a reluctant grin, but he returned the gesture none the less. "To surviving the night." He repeated, only for the room to pick up the toast and repeat it in near unison. "And the coming future."

All throughout the rest of the meal, Arya found herself silently observing those gathered around the close pressed tables and the faces filling the room. She kept her ears open and alert, her eyes sharp and her mind clear- despite the vast improvement in the drink and the ease in which it went down. She soon found the plates cleared away and an atmosphere of celebration and lightness began to creep into the air.

A small gathering of musicians in the corner began to play and a bard began to sing a jolly melody, dancers soon after springing to life in a clear section of stone floor and moving to the quick rhythm. Even her family seemed swept away in the good spirit and they all became enthralled in their smaller units and she was able to more or less fade into the background and slip from the table.

She had caught sight of a face in particular she still needed to reckon with. She moved through the crowd like a shade and soon 'found' herself colliding with a sinewy and boney frame topped with scraggily, unkept grey hair and a stubble coated face. "Beg pardon, My Lord." She simpered with a bowed head, not allowing him time to respond before she'd moved out of his reach and disappeared back into the crowd.

She slipped the tiny vial back into its proper stop upon her person without faulter and continued on until she caught sight of a familiar trio, clearly already in their cups and dressed in Essosi leathers despite the bitter chill still on the air.

"_Greetings_." She stated, announcing her presence with a seemingly easy smile, Dothraki rolling off her tongue just the slightest bit easier for the recent practice.

"_Aye, greeting woman_." Razhako responded easily, echoed by his two brothers.

"_I am pleased at your survival. I know the losses to your people were great_."

"_Many losses for all people_."

"_Aye_." She echoed his early sound.

"_Join us_?" Jazhako offered, speaking time to her directly for the first.

"_Thank you_." She told him, taking an open seat at their table as her eyes swept over the slips of paper spread across its surface. "_Deal me in next hand_?" She questioned, familiar with the game.

Arya kept careful track of time as the eve progressed with no signs of slowing in its festivities. As the time struck that she'd mentally been waiting for crept closer, the center of her focus took leave of the room, face pallid. She waited to avoid linking her own movements with his but eventually pressed herself up from the table and excused herself in an exaggerated stumble to make it seem as if she were further in her cups than she truly was. She moved as if she simply wished to get a breath of fresh air and soon passed into the barren corridors leading to the nearest courtyard.

So caught up in her mission, she nearly missed seeing the hand reach out from an alcove until just before it grabbed her. The only reason she didn't draw a blade was due to the familiar family ring he wore on his finger, decreeing him a member of the Lannister family without him ever need introduce himself.

She allowed him to catch her arm and tug her into the small space with him, it being a bit crowded feeling with both of them tucked within and no room to so much as take a step in three directions. "What-?" Her question was interrupted by the press of lips before she could finish asking it but that action in and of itself was essentially the answer to her question anyway and so she allowed her mind to quiet into a moment of enjoyment and tentative reciprocation considering the way their last interaction had ended.

His lips were chapped and bitten, she could feel, and she could remember him telling her of the terrible habit his father had attempted to force him to break in his youth with varying success depending on the circumstance. One point of contact became two and then three as she felt first his left hand reach up to cup her jawline and then his right move to rest comfortably on her waist.

After he lay his hands on her, his passion seemed to skyrocket and he attempted to turn them to press her back into the wall for better leverage, but it was at that point that she pulled back and then took a physical step to give herself some distance to clear her head. "What are we doing here, Jaime?" She questioned lowly, resisting the urge to reach up to rub at her tingling lips or do anything else that would give her own state of desire away.

The blond blinked down at her, almost seeming confused at her sudden distance. "Arya…" She watched him as he paused and seemed to try and gather his thoughts, without much success at all, for he did not attempt to speak again before she began to lose her patience. She shook her head, annoyed at his seeming inability to answer her and took another step away from him, even as he reached out to try and regain the connection she was rejecting, no matter how much her body might still ache for his own.

Afterall, sex hadn't… It hadn't been quite what she had expected or hoped for, she supposed. Sure, it was raw and passionate, and it had felt good once she got past the initial pain and discomfort… But, she'd had to open herself up in a way she'd never done before to allow such contact- and not just on a physical level. It took getting into a certain mentality for someone like her to give over control of _anything_, really, but especially her body.

No… The sex had been pleasurable and enjoyable to some extent, but it wasn't something she _needed_ on a primal level- she could just as well never share such an exchange again and be just fine without it. And considering his overall refusal of her in any kind of formalized context, well… Lets say she wasn't feeling a burning need to put herself though it again, however much her body might tingle for his renewed touch.

Mentally shaking her head, Arya drew herself forcefully back together. She almost said, 'forgive me,' but realized the words didn't quite fit her state of mind before she said them aloud. "Excuse me," She said instead. "I have something rather pressing to attend to." She ended. He stuttered slightly at her rejection but she had pulled back completely from the alcove before he could protest coherently.

While Arya would never admit aloud to fleeing the scene, she would admit at least silently to herself that her feet had moved to take her from the rather uncomfortable situation with a flightiness not normally seen from her. It was her turn to assume he wouldn't chase after her, and for the second time one of them was proven correct in challenging the others' pride and stubbornness, for she was able to escape the hallway without any further hinderance.

She resumed her initial route and soon came to a heavy exterior door- the nearest from the great hall, as a matter of fact, which was important to note for someone how may have been feeling rather overheated for seemingly no reason beyond imbibing too much drink.

When she reached her destination, she was pleased to see the guards that had become a common fixture outside had been withdrawn into the celebration- it wasn't as if they had any other enemies to expect, after all- and it made her job much simpler in tracking the shuffling boot prints that moved straight across the courtyard and to the open field beyond the gate.

She strolled along easily enough, knowing her poison of choice was one of the slower acting ones in her arsenal, so she had no worry that she would be too late in finding him. She may have- had she allowed herself to be distracted longer, but it was a non-issue at that point. Her prey seemed to have stumbled along further than she had expected, for it was well beyond the gates and in the shadows that she found him.

He was lying against a snowbank, clutching a hand to his chest and she thought that his advanced age may have speed things up beyond her expectation. No matter though, she'd still found him in time. She approached languish, his beady eyes locking on her form as she moved closer, until she eventually crouched down beside him, balancing on the balls of her feet in the snow tracks he himself had upturned so her own presence beside him would be invisible to any but perhaps the most trained eye.

"You." He snarled at her from pinched lips as a curled claw-like hand attempted to swipe at her, but she rested just out of his arm span. She continued to watch him curiously as his breathing became shallower and more pained and his eyes never left hers for longer than it took him to blink. "Why are you here, girl. What do you want?" He demanded, bubbles forming in his spittle.

"Oh, don't mind me." She replied pleasantly with a tilt of her head. "I don't want much- nothing that you can give me, anyhow. Or rather, nothing that you can stop me receiving. See, I don't want anything more than I want to watch you die, and for you to know that I am the one responsible for taking your life, as you attempted to take my own."

"I never tried to take your life." He spat angrily.

"Not in this manner, you're right. No, what you attempted to do to me was much worse- you attempted to own me, to own my body, to take me ad treat me and use me as little more than a well blooded brood mare to give to one of your despicable spawn. Let me tell you something, Lord Frey. You, nor any other man in this land, will ever "own" me. You will never own my body. Hells, you personally will never see my body again after tonight- nor anyone else's. You made a grievous mistake, Lord Frey, one of which you will not survive."

It appeared he wanted to answer, but simply couldn't. His curled hand returned to its initial spot upon his chest, clutching at his heart as it continued to pump blood much to rapidly to be normal, the beat of it echoing in his ears in a constant 'whoosh-whoosh, whoosh-whoosh."

Arya watched curiously as his pain in his eyes increased rapidly until it reached its peak and then eventually became nothing- nothing but the blank gleam of death gazing out silently into the night. Her lips curled, satisfied at finally claiming her retribution over the man who'd attempted to play her like a Cyvasse piece for naught but his own merit.

She stood straight, uncaring to linger now that the deed was done, feet still situated unconsciously within his own track as she began to make her way back, leaving his body for someone else to discover… At least, if they found him before the wolves did. She found she didn't truly care either way.

_Tbc _

**Notes:**

We broke 1,000 Kudos! Thank you so much to everyone who is ready and reacting to this work- I greatly appreciate the feedback! I do have a question, if you have a preference:

I've been trying to push these chapters to be 4,000-5,000 words. However, it's taking me long enough to write that I can post a week or two faster if I post at the 3,000 word range.

Would you rather see smaller, more frequent chapters?

Or slightly longer chapters that may be a bit more spaced out?

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter- I can't wait to hear what you thought! Thanks for reading! :)


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19:

Arya slipped back into the dimly lit chambers, dozens of candles and fireplaces granting a warm glow upon boisterous victors, who had grown even louder and drunker since she'd left, it appeared. She remained in the shadows as she scanned the room, idling deciding which direction would grant her the most bearable circumstances to pass the next hour or so before she could duck out in truth without her presence being missed.

She spotted her second eldest brother sitting at a table off to the side with several of his wildlings seated with him- the familiar blond one telling a loud rendition of her brothers' heroics in battle. She glanced past the man to see the dragon queen looking cold, sat alone at the head table, two of her men standing faithfully at her back, despite the festive nature, but no others nearby or seeking her attention.

She looked like a woman scorned, at least until Jon glanced over his shoulder at her, looking almost sheepish and apologetic. Arya watched as her expression smoothed and softened, and the woman lifted her glass to silently toast the man from across the room. She watched as that dark head turned back to his men and the softness disappeared beneath blank stoniness once again.

The white haired woman seemed thoughtful as her unique purple gaze took in the different groups spread throughout the room- Wildlings, Northerners, and Southern all interacting peacefully in what was likely the first example of such unification of the entirety of Westeros since the wall had been built and the land all fell under one rule.

Her own more exotic soldiers were spread through the room in their own mode of celebration, though largely in keeping with their own people and one of the groups much more reserved than the other, as seemed to be their nature.

Arya had tried to pull an Unsullied into conversation more than once, but only ever gained a blank gaze in return for her efforts. Those efforts had been made out of an idle curiosity more than anything, for she'd only ever seen the world-renown soldiers from afar before when she'd been on an educational exploration with Jaqen the second year of her training, and the very idea of them gave her a twisted sense of fascination she wanted to explore.

If she hadn't been given their Queen's name, she may have been more persistent in her efforts, but she didn't want to make herself particularly memorable to her most dangerous guards. Instead she ignored the urge to approach the one stationed closest to her and instead moved across the room and towards her brother without ever giving away where her attention had been.

She dropped into the empty seat beside him and he gave her a welcoming grin as his blond wildling began rambling anew, though this time over her own attributes and fierceness rather than her brothers'. She leaned closer to Jon and asked quietly, "How does everyone seem to know what happened?"

"A group of men were passing by the Godswood on their way to the rear gate, saw everything. News spread before we knew to stop it." He sounded apologetic, understanding- mayhap the only one to understand- her desire to remain anonymous. She hadn't voiced a word of complaint for her newfound fame since leaving her room a scant couple of hours before, but Jon knew her well enough to know she would be uncomfortable with the scrutiny and attention.

She shrugged off his words, appearing uncaring even as she could feel the eyes steadily upon her. She leaned back on her seat as the blond finally finished his drunken song and reclaimed his own seat across the table, large drinking horn clutched in his massive palm. The others surrounding them who could hear broke into applause and Arya had to physically stop herself from twitching as the sudden and encompassing burst of sound and the further swell of attention it brought from the room at large.

Jon pushed a glass of wine over to her and she accepted it gratefully, suddenly much more willing to part with a piece of her senses now that her primary task for the eve was done. She wouldn't allow herself to become too far gone, but there was no harm in allowing one night to celebrate their survival. She lifted the glass in silent thanks before taking a large swallow.

Unlike the Unsullied, the Wildlings were more than happy to exchange words and stories with her, which allowed her a great insight into their culture and social structure- even more so when a group of three women joined them, personalities just as rough and uncouth as the men. Jon seemed unphased by the behavior, clearly used to it, as were the couple of Men from the Nights Watch who sat further down.

It was sometime later that Jon leaned closer to her, getting her attention. "I don't think your Mother approves of you sitting here." He told her softly and she glanced across the room to see her mothers glacial blue eyes locked upon them and the company surrounding them.

"My Mothers' approval matters little to me." She told him dismissively, glancing away from the woman.

He shot her a look of his own, brow raised. "And here I thought you were getting on better today?"

"We are, I suppose. That does not mean I'll allow her opinions to dictate my actions."

"Hells, Arya. You make me almost feel bad for the woman."

"I make you feel bad for _her_?" Arya demanded, offence breaking through her controlled countenance. "She's awful to you- even now, even after everything. Why would you feel bad for her?"

He signed and looked as if he regretted speaking but was too stubborn to back down now that he'd started. "The Lady Catelyn has never made her feels on me secret, Arya. I wasn't her child- I was a bastard her husband brought home from a war, soon after they were married. But you? Sansa? Bran and Rickon? You all were her babies. No one could doubt her love for her children. You may have been a brat when you were a child, but you were still her child, _are_ still her child. You've grown up, but you're still as difficult as you were when you were a child- more so, even, and yet that woman still loves you as much now as she did then. She's your Mother, Arya. It's her job to worry for you, to want to give you the best future she can- even if her opinion and your own may not agree on what that future looks like."

Arya stared at him, surprised and a bit taken aback at the unexpected scolding. "Where's this coming from?" She asked rather than getting worked up, knowing there had to be more to his musings than simple sympathy for the woman who had made his childhood a nightmare.

Her brother glanced around the table and the tables packed closely around them, and stood rather than answering. "Dance with me?" He asked, head tilting towards the clear space where several pairs already moved in sequence to the beat of the music. She nodded her agreement, still curious, and followed his lead to a clear spot of the floor. He lead her into the rhythm flawlessly, for Ned had always included him in the boys' dance lessons when he had them with Robb, and Rickon, before his accident.

"So?" She questioned, once they were several feet away from anyone else.

"So?" He repeated, lifting her in time with the other dancers. She peered up at identical grey eyes with a deadpanned expression and he gave into he without much resistance. "So, nothing really. I've been thinking a bit about children, about mothers and fathers."

"Why would you be thinking about such things? Aren't men of the Night's Watch forbidden from such?"

"The Night's Watch is no more… There is no wall, no need to guard it or fend off the Wildlings.. Robb has offered me a spot on his council, should I desire. He's offered to make me a Stark in name again- to grant me my own keep." He confided quietly. "I said no before, because of my vows, but now.."

"Is that something you want? A Lordship? Marriage? Children?" Arya questioned, just as quietly.

"I'm not really sure. Never allowed myself to want it before, not really."

"Yeah." She mussed softly. The next several steps put distance between them, but their conversation continued once they came together again.

"What about you?" Jon asked. "It seems you'll be married soon as well. How are you feeling about that?"

"Not really thinking about it, to be honest." She confided in him in turn.

"I've had a couple of men approach me about your availability. I know Robbs had the same. Probably more than me, even."

"Did it pain you both to have to direct them to Lord Tywin?" She questioned, amused.

"More than you can ever know." He joked in turn. "In all seriousness, though-" He said as the music began to slow, signaling the end of the song. "You're going to be okay, right?"

"'Course. You?"

"Course."

Her brother left her side after the song finished and she moved quickly over to the side where wine stood waiting as she saw a Lord start to turn towards her unaccompanied presence. Her eyes scanned the room despite her desire to flee and she instead moved towards a wide beam that would shield her rom most of the room.

It was such a good shield, in fact, that she couldn't see the man already taking refuge behind it until she'd practically collided with him. She stopped on her heal but still rocked forward slightly as she attempted to halt herself so suddenly.

"-Hi.." Jaime drawled from where he leaned casually against the strong stone, remanence of how he used to look when he would guard Robert and then Joffrey back in her youth while they were all still at Kings Landing.

"Hi." She responded, deciding she would rather finish her stride and be out of sight, than to have anyone else could try to drag her into a dance.

He looked down at her oddly, furrowing a brow. "What have you been up to?" He asked as he pushed himself slightly more upright.

"What do you mean?" She questioned back on reflex, wondering at what he saw in her to ask that question.

"I don't know, you seem more.. happy? No, that's not it. Light? What happened?"

"Nothing." She denied, reaching for one of the glass to get herself a drink as she'd planned. "Just enjoying victory- aren't you?"

"Are you? Enjoying victory, that is. You seem the kind of woman to enjoy the fight more than the peace."

"Is that the pot calling the kettle black?" She asked sardonically, tilting her head to conceal her amusement. As… odd, as things had become between them in recent days, it was still so easy to talk to him, joke with him, let herself relax with him despite her tensions.

"Nah, I'm hardly a woman." He told her, deadpanned, and a true laugh escaped her.

"No, I suppose that's one thing your definitely not."

His gaze remained on her but he looked more serious as he took her in. "I wanted to know how you are? Were you hurt at all during the battle?" He questioned lowly.

Her head tiled. "No, I wasn't hurt. Not more than a couple of bumps and bruises. I expect you knew that already."

"Wanted to be sure. You seemed.. I didn't want to hurt you, especially if you were already hurt."

"Ah," She told him, suddenly understanding what he thought had happened. Or perhaps, what he told himself had happened. "I didn't pull away from you because you pressed on a physical hurt, Jaime. Do not worry."

It was his turn to furrow his brows and he pushed himself fully to stand upright. "Why then _did_ you pull away?" He questioned.

"I told you, I had something pressing to attend to. If you truly wanted to ask after my wellbeing, why did you not do so before pressing me to the stone?" She challenged in return, bold.

He faltered. "Arya, I-"

"You?"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"You're sorry for what?"

"Would you allow me to finish a sentence?"

Arya clenched her teeth together, unsure why he was able to cause her emotions to rise so suddenly and without notice. She'd just been thinking about how easy it was to talk to him and now she wanted nothing more than to smack him with the blunt edge of her blade. "Please." She told him tightly when he seemed to purposefully wait for her acknowledgement before he would continue.

"Very appreciated." He told her, just bordering on sarcasm. "Now, I would like to know what caused you to go from us lying together before the battle, to me having to struggle for even a moment of your time and attention. Was I so terrible a bed partner?"

"Mayhap not 'terrible.'" She allowed. "But also not necessarily worth a repeat performance, nor my continued attention. You made it rather clear you had no desire for me before the Gods, though it seems I will be there soon enough regardless. I've already 'shamed' myself by lying with you once as an unmarried woman, why should I do so again?" She challenged, not meaning the words she was saying but rather wondering at how he would respond to them. Part of her felt a bit bad at playing him so easily, but she was on unfamiliar ground with him and needed to win back some form of control- if that control was gained through manipulating him until she had enough information to trust him again in some capacity, well.. What did one expect from a Faceless Man?

"Did you feel shamed?" He pressed in turn, stepping closer to her and calling her on her slight bluff. She did not answer and he seemed to take her silence as permission to continue. "I admit, the state of affairs that night left our time together rather.. hurried, but you could allow me to make it up to you now that the urgency is passed?"

"And why would I want to take part in anything that requires making up afterword's?"

"This won't need making up, I assure you."

She was almost tempted to give into him, but then she remembered his refusal of her and her slight arousal faded, however ridiculous it was. She knew he didn't have any obligation to her, that he'd sworn himself to the Kingsguard and that she had no right to demand anything from him that he wasn't willing to give, but she still felt slighted, felt slightly ashamed and almost unworthy.

She'd never allow such emotions to pass beyond her conscious mind, of course, but wouldn't ignore them within herself, even if no one else would ever know of them. She still felt slighted enough that she would feel anger with herself after the fact, she knew, and that was enough to have her drain her glass and face the crowd again, rather than her own inner struggle. "No, it won't need making up. Good Night, Jaime."

A brief time passed and Arya found herself somehow dancing with an unknown man, having failed in making it clear across the room, and whose mouth seemed incapable of silence, regardless of how quickly their feet moved amongst the other pairs in the dim and somewhat crowed space. She didn't take notice at first, distracted as she was by both her thoughts and by the incessant rambling, but she took notice when an unusual hush fell over the crowd, originating at the distant head table and spreading quickly throughout the room.

Those dancing in the clear space at the back of the room came to a stop, Arya and her unnamed partner included. Arya rose slightly on booted toes to try and catch sight of what was happening past the crowd, silently cursing her still petite frame as she pulled away and began to move closer as a sentence from a familiar voice caught her ears that she never expected to hear spoken aloud.

"You're Robert Baratheon's son." It was spoken without question, confident and unwavering on the air.

She didn't see Gendry's nod, but she heard the Dragon Queen continue and could see her by the time she finished saying "You are aware he took my family's throne and tried to have me murdered."

"I didn't even know he was my father until after he was dead." Gendry defended, voice wavering just slightly on the words, standing uncertainly before the dangerous woman as an uncertain, uneducated, uncultured blacksmith in a room of royalty, lords and ladies, and everyone beyond.

"Yes, he's dead. His brothers are, too." She told him coldly. Arya glanced a few seats down to see Jon looking ashen and uncertain, eyes looked upon the table as if he didn't want to witness what was going to happen, brows furrowed deeply. "So who's Lord of Storm's End now?" The foreign Queen questioned.

"I don't know, your Grace." He told her quietly after an almost ashamed pause.

"Does anyone?" She asked, pitching her voice to carry.

The silence lingered, even as she looked pointedly at the crowds. She glanced almost lazily back at him, violet eyes hooded and voice lilting with her exotic accent. "I think _you_ should be Lord of Storms End."

The silence seemed to swell to an even greater level. Gendry finally stuttered, shaking his head at the same time, "I-I can't be, I'm a bastard."

"No." She denied firmly. "You are Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storms End, the noble son of Robert Baratheon, because _that_ is what I have made you."

Arya remained frozen, watching in a mixture of shock and disbelief at the woman's audacity considering her position and the quite uncertain situation now that the danger that unified them had passed.

No one seemed know what to say- not even Gendry, until Tywin's voice pierced the air, acrid as she'd ever heard it and drawling in his contempt. "If only you'd the power to make such a statement in these lands."

"Beg Pardon?" She asked dangerously after a pointed pause, head tilting towards the elder man and her shoulders drawing back in an attempt to seem more powerful, despite her small stature and clear isolation amongst them the Westerosi.

His icy gaze locked upon her, voice like an ice whip and twice as unforgiving. "You may call yourself a Queen, Lady Targaryen, but here you are nothing more than a dead barbarian's wife, and a dead kings' daughter. Your father lost his crown by rite of conquest- you may not like such facts, but facts they remain."

"And who are you to speak to me in such a manner?"

"You know who I am, but I shall remind you regardless, _foreigner_. I am Lord Tywin Lannister, chosen Hand to the Rightful King of Westeros, Tommen Baratheon, and to his Lady Wife- the Queen Margaery Baratheon, daughter to his Lord Mace Tyrell, who is with us here tonight and whom I'm sure does not appreciate your attempts to overthrow his daughter, as I do not appreciate your attempts to overthrow. My. grandson."

She smiled- it was a slow smile, one that seemed practiced. "Attempts? Tell me Lord Tywin, if I were to go to Kings Landing, with my armies and my dragons, who do you think would stand rule when the daylight fades? _Your_ grandson and his little wife, or myself and my dragons?"

**Notes:**

Next chapters going to get rough! If there's anything in particular you're hoping will happen, let me know and I may work it in! As always, thanks so much for reading and I'd love to hear what you think!


	20. Chapter 20

Last time:

_His icy gaze locked upon her, voice like an ice whip and twice as unforgiving. "You may call yourself a Queen, Lady Targaryen, but here you are nothing more than a dead barbarian's wife, and a dead kings' daughter. Your father lost his crown by rite of conquest- you may not like such facts, but facts they remain."_

"_And who are you to speak to me in such a manner?"_

"_You know who I am, but I shall remind you regardless, foreigner. I am Lord Tywin Lannister, chosen Hand to the Rightful King of Westeros, Tommen Baratheon, and to his Lady Wife- the Queen Margaery Baratheon, daughter to his Lord Mace Tyrell, who is with us here tonight and whom I'm sure does not appreciate your attempts to overthrow his daughter, as I do not appreciate your attempts to overthrow. My. grandson."_

_She smiled- it was a slow smile, one that seemed practiced. "Attempts? Tell me Lord Tywin, if I were to go to Kings Landing, with my armies and my dragons, who do you think would stand rule when the daylight fades? Your grandson and his little wife, or myself and my dragons?"_

Now:

"That's quite the bold threat to make." Tywin told her coldly. "Considering you are quite well outnumbered just now, and quite unable to make it back to your beasts to be able to command them at all." The Lannister bannermen and those loyal to the crown shifted around the room, hands moving unconsciously to their weapons as they waited to see how such a challenge would play out.

"Your men may outnumber by own, but their skill and ferocity are unmatched in battle. I bid you to try." She told him, unphased, and with a challenging smirk even as her men stepped closer and drew their weapons. The mood throughout the room suddenly changed as everyone previously partaking in drunken enjoyment suddenly became focused and weary. The wound of steal being drawn echoed throughout the room, though no one made to move just yet.

"Please, Your Grace, My Lord, I implore you. I understand that many questions remain unanswered, but allow this night, if no others, to be one of celebration and victory for our people." Robb stated evenly, but with a commanding air he'd acquired since being named King of the North, as he stood to his own feet and took a step towards the commotion.

"Are you asking me to allow such a threat to pass unchallenged?" Daenerys questioned dangerously.

"I ask you to recognize that emotions are high just now. We were allies at dawn, was that allegiance so meaningless and fleeting that it's gone now that the enemy is defeated?" Robb argued evenly. "Before the blood-moon can even rise?"

"It seems there is a new enemy."

"So it may seem." Tywin agreed before Robb could respond. "A foreign enemy bore from a Mad Kings seed, whose vicious and bloody reign finally put to rest. Tell me, _Lady Targaryen_, do you truly with to usurp nearly two decades of peace for your own selfish desires?"

"I wish only to claim what is mine by rite."

"By Rite?" Tywin questioned mockingly. "What rite is that? Again, I direct your attention to the Rite of Conquest, in which your Father forfeited any right to the throne for himself or his descendants when he died by my sons hand, and forfeit the kinship to Robert Baratheon. I do understand that you have been raised abroad, but truly such an excuse is rather unacceptable for someone demanding war over such a basically flawed argument. Mayhap you should gain yourself a tutor in the ways of Westeros before proclaiming yourself Queen of this land."

"My Lord!" Robb exclaimed, annoyed. "I will not ask again. This argument is done for this night." Arya was almost impressed by how commanding he was able to make himself sound just then- he could truly portray a kingly baring when his hackles were risen.

"Of course, _Your Grace_." Tywin agreed smoothly. "I do apologize. Perhaps I will excuse myself for the night." He continued blasély, cool eyes dismissive and unworried despite the continued tension.

"Then I bid you a good eve, Lord Tywin." Robb replied, his own tone still taunt with agitation.

The Old Lion looked indifferently away and his glacial eyes locked upon Arya's own form, still frozen on the outskirts and in clear view. She hadn't fully hashed out her plan for the woman's death, but the conversation made it clear she would have to be dealt with sooner than later, else the Mad Queen might do more damage to their world than could be mitigated. Tywin's head tilted just slightly and she knew he wished for her presence. She hadn't been alone with the man since everything had come to a head, but she knew she could only avoid such a ting for so long.

Robb followed his gaze to her but didn't linger before turning his attention away, spine straight and clearly still tense. Tywin stood with a few others and the small group made their way to the doors to return to their camp. Arya waited several minutes while those remaining slowly began to relax and hushed conversations began again, before she slipped away herself and allowed her feet to carry her to the unspoken destination without her needing pay much attention to where she was going.

She approached the Lannister camps a few minutes later, and it was lit with its own celebrations for those who hadn't attended the main festivities within the keep. Tywin was alone when she reached his tent, though two full glasses of wine stood waiting beside the fresh Cyvasse board. The man himself stood with his back to the entry, attention focused on a letter lying atop his portable table.

She paused within the door wait, uncertain if she wanted to approach further, though it was apparent he expected her to do so.

"Come woman, I don't have all night." Tywin told her, and it was the odd change from 'Girl' to 'Woman' that spurned her forward. "You are still angry with me." He told her as she took her seat, not bothering to beat around the bush. She didn't respond, but rather took the first turn as he gestured her to do so. "My son is stubborn." He told her, observantly. "And short sighted, much as it pains me to admit. He was going to disagree with this arrangement as soon as he knew I was for it- no matter what. Best to get it over with in the beginning and then allow you to bring him back to heel once he's worked through his anger. You are intelligent, but you haven't known him nearly as long nor as well as I. Trust I know what I am doing."

"Bring him to heel?" Arya asked evenly, focusing on the phrase and a bit offended on his behalf. "It's truly no wonder he pushes so much in the opposite direction if that is your opinion of him and how he should be treated."

"Beg pardon?"

"Jaime isn't a child who needs brought to heel. He's a man long since grown and yet still answering to his fathers will. It's no wonder he fights against such things- I understand now why he renewed his vows not once but twice when the kingship passed and he could have chosen to return home. It might not have been a rich or glamorous life, but it allowed him to be free of your manipulations. I can, in a way, relate."

Tywin studied her silently for several long moments, and then moments more passed as his gaze dropped to the board and he took his turn. "Had I not pushed my son to succeed, he likely would have been dead decades ago." Tywin told her, tone full of rebuke and yet not overly harsh. "Jaime is bull-headed. He was taxing as a child, indolent and spoilt. He's always been too willful and too bold, too willing to make absurd decisions. He requires a firm hand."

"Have you ever stopped to think that he might respond better if you didn't attempt to force his hand? If you allowed him to learn from his own experiences and make his own choices in life?" Arya mussed as she moved a piece. Tywin glanced across at her with a dismissive brow raised and simply decided not to answer.

Arya grew thoughtful as the game progressed in silence and decided to continue on her musings. "I don't mean to say that he is right or wrong for abandoning his birth right and obligation as the Lannister heir. I understand the necessity of such things in your mind, but have you ever wondered if things might have been vastly different today if you had made difference choices in the past? Had things been different, he could have remained at home after the Mad Kings death rather than returning to swear to King Robert. He could have accepted his duties as your heir and married and born you a grandson already."

"What good do you think it does to muse on events that never came to pass?" He asked her, rather than commenting on her words.

"What good does it do you?" Arya asked, knowing then that he'd had those same throughs- or thoughts similar enough- of his own. Probably more than one thought, and probably more than once.

"Tell me, Lady Arya." Tywin stated, tone changed slightly and sounding unconcerned with her answer as he changed the subject almost completely. "If my son does choose to continue in his stubbornness, who would you choose to marry? If you could choose anyone?"

Arya looked across at him in slight shock, only to find him already looking back and studying her expressions. Their eyes locked and remained so as she considered her answer, remembering her brother so recently telling her of the men approaching for her hand. She wondered how many had truly approached Lord Tywin, though couldn't imagine many would care, let alone have the gall to address the infamous Southern lord.

"I wouldn't marry anyone." She told him honestly.

"No one?"

"No one. I've never wanted to marry, never wanted to bind myself to a man, settle down somewhere and care for his household."

"Never wanted children?" He asked when she didn't explicitly say so.

She hesitated, but answered a moment later after choosing to ignore the little nagging feeling she'd had since her and Jon had spoken about his own opinion on the subject: "No, ever wanted children. I've never desired a family beyond what I already have."

"Having a child is.. The single most prideful moment you will ever feel, and also the most exhausting a time as you will ever experience in your life. It is both terrifying and exhilarating, knowing you've created an entirely new life, brought an entirely new being into existence, to be molded and shaped by you and your spouse. To see yourself in them, both your strengths and your flaws alike." He ended sardonically.

"I do not wish to be responsible for molding a child." She told him solemnly. "I'm not.. My childhood wasn't.. It was happy, sure, for a time, and I have some vaguely pleasant memories of those years, but I was one and ten when I left Winterfell, and I suppose things were okay for a time when we first arrived in Kings Landing. But.. I don't have any frame of reference for the more recent years, and I find I don't have very good memories of the earlier ones, not after every that's happened since then. I wouldn't.. I wouldn't be a good mother. I'm too flawed, I'm not.. Soft, or comforting, as mothers are. I deal in death, not in life. I don't think it would be fair to subject a child to such a mother."

"There are all types of mothers in the world, and all types of children. Beyond that, raising a child is more the responsibility than just the mother." Tywin told her steadily. "It also belongs to the father, to the aunts and uncles, to the grandparents, and anyone else you deemed. It would not solely rest upon your shoulders."

"I never really knew my grandparents." Arya argued. "And I rarely saw my Uncle Benjen. It was only ever my parents and my siblings in the family hall."

"No, I suppose not. The Senior Starks have been long gone, Riverrun is quite far from Winterfell, and Rangers of the Nights Watch didn't get much free time to visit '_family_.'" He paused to take a sip and study her as she studied the board, making an effort to keep her face blank. "It's not like that in Lannisport. Generations of family live together or near together. Children grow up knowing their relatives, grow up being a part of their lives and cousins oft grow up to be as close as siblings. Tell me, Lady Arya, have you ever even met your cousin, the Lord Robin?"

Arya almost felt as though she should take offence, but couldn't find a firm point to argue. Her family hadn't been the same since they left for the capital- since before that even, when Bran fell and weeks passed without them knowing if he would wake. She'd been so very young then, young and naive. As Hand, her father had been exceptionally busy and she saw the Septa and Sansa far more than she saw her father. No, her most vivid memories of her childhood had been fighting- first with the Butchers Boy before Joffrey had him cut down, and later with her Dancing Master, before everything went to hell.

"No, we've never met." She admitted. "I'm not sure I truly remember how to be part of a family. It's been a long time."

"You've people around you who'll help you to remember." He told her as he made a move that secured his victory in record time, giving proof of her distraction despite her best efforts. "If you'd allow them to."

Another few minutes passed in silence until Arya spoke again. "What truly will happen to me if Jaime doesn't accept your plan and leave the Kings Guard?" She asked directly, wanting- _needing_ to know if she should start making contingency plans again.

"If he refuses to give up his vows, I will find you another commendable match."

"What do you define a commendable match?" She asked.

"Someone of good ancestry, someone worthy of you. I don't know if many can keep up with you, but someone who may at least survive you."

"Do I have any say in who it is?"

"Would you truly and actively contribute to making such a decision?" He peered across at her doubtfully. "I thought not." He continued when her eyes dropped. Would she want to lend her voice to such a thing? Wouldn't doing so make her complacent in the practice itself? But then, it may at least allow her some control over who she ends up married to… But even still, she found herself so torn, so much of herself still wanting to flee, more of herself wanting to rage and slaughter everyone who tried to force her hand, but the part of her held within her core didn't quite want to disappear again, didn't want to give up the familial connections she was just starting to remember how to feel.

"Will it be another Lannister?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not."

"And you're sure we cannot simply forgo this whole idea?" He shot her a look across the table but didn't respond. "Thought not." She mumbled after he looked back at his pieces.

They were coming close to the end of the game when he raised a new subject- likely the one he'd wanted to speak to her about initially. "We will be packing up camp and setting off on the morrow." He told her suddenly. "No point in lingering now that the work is done."

"And now that the 'Queen' is making threats against the crown?" She asked, not needing an answer. Surely it would make more sense to take the following day to prepare such a huge force to move and to set off early the following day? Unless he didn't wish to delay that long, and it was fairly clear why that would be.

"What will you do?" He asked rather than responding to her question. "You are, of course, welcome to travel with us."

She'd already been thinking about the question since it came up previously and so had her answer. "I wish to stay a few more days and then will set off. I'm not quite ready to leave yet and I'll catch up to the Army quickly enough on my own."

"I don't like the idea of you traveling the Kings Road alone."

"As I've already reminded you more than once, I was on my own already, before I met with your party out of sheer luck. You need not worry for me."

"Need I remind you of the men you met on the road? You think they are the only group of their kind? No. Jaime will remain behind with you. The two of you together can move as quickly as you would yourself, and I'd feel better knowing you would have an extra blade at your back."

"You truly think _that's_ a good idea?" She asked incredulously. "I thought you wanted the two of us to keep our distance, anyway? Now you want us to travel together for a week or more without any company at all?"

"If you think I don't already know what the two of you have gotten up to, you're more ignorant than I believed. If not keeping your distance now brings the two of you closer, more power to you." He told her bluntly. "I expect to see you both within a fortnight of us setting off, so you're amongst the group before we come to the Neck."

She nodded her acceptance, not quite knowing what else to do. Then- she speculated what her brothers and mother would think of the idea and silently wondered if she might get away without them knowing any of the details at all.

The next morn, true to his word, the Lannister camp began the arduous task of packing up the camp that had been settled long enough to embed the tents in the hard-packed snow. Arya ducked from her room once again before her hand-maiden could come knocking to get her ready for the day and escaped down to the city proper where she knew the army would pass by on their way back to the Kings Road.

She made her way to a comfortable barrel she'd perched herself on before and then settled in to care for her weapons while she waited. She had no desire to say goodbye's- but still desired to watch them set off and so had found her current state to be the easiest solution.

She was surprised to be joined by someone unexpected less than an hour after she arrived and who did so silently enough that she didn't hear his approach or notice his presence until a shinny red apply was held out before her. Of course, the only one she knew who could move so silently was Jaqen and she found himself in his Lannister guard outfit.

She didn't need to ask what it meant, for it was clear enough without needing be spoken. No, what mattered much more to her was whether or not he would show himself to her again. Would he return to Braavos now that the threat has passed? Did he have another purpose in Westeros to fulfill? He had spoken to her of being an outlier, but she hadn't yet completed her task. Was there a timeline she wasn't aware of? She was spiraling, though the thoughts never showed on her face as she waited seemingly calm for him to speak, hands continuing their smooth strokes in guiding her blade against a borrowed whetstone.

"A man has a gift for a girl." He stated eventually, drawing something from a pocket sewn into his pants. Held between two fingers was a single berry, so deep a red that it appeared almost black, even in the weak sunlight. It was from the far east and grew on scraggly desert bushes. Its name, once translated, literally meant 'death,' because it was so poisonous in its pure form that eating a single small berry could cause the unfortunate soul to pass within a painful fifteen minutes. Despite the rich color of its skin, it's inner liquid could be carefully refined into a completely clear poison that held just the faintest flavor akin to cherries. The House kept the secret of that refinery close to their heart, but Arya had been educated in the process not long before she left.

Once refined it was a much more subtle poison. It didn't digest in the stomach and cause the extreme nausea and vomiting of the berry itself but rather passed easily until it reached the liver and gallbladder, where it mixes with the bile found within and start a slow organ failure that would take weeks to come to fruition.

During those first weeks, it would cause a loss of appetite, swells of nausea that would come and go, fatigue, muscle weakness and bouts of dizziness. Still, the symptoms were subtle enough at first to be brushed off or even go unnoticed completely depending on the circumstances. Its victims would often become dehydrated and malnourished without realizing it because they simply wouldn't feel hungry or thirsty.

They could waste away completely without realizing it, could become so weak that they might go to sleep and never wake. Arya didn't foresee its use taking so long though- for how would such a woman take to losing the strength in her muscles? But first she needed to refine the berry, a task of which she knew was another test in and of itself, for it truly was difficult to successfully complete.

She reached out to accept the tiny berry, moving it to a shielded pocket of her own until she could take care of it in full. "Thank you." She said quietly, silently reassured that he was clearly giving her more time to complete her most important test. "When will I see you again?" She asked, feeling slightly bolder.

"A man cannot say. A month. A year. More. There are many decisions that need to be made before that can be determined. For now, only time can tell."

She nodded her head, accepting his answer in its vagueness.

"A girl must not forget her duty again." He told her next, sounding sterner despite the continued lack of inflection in his voice. If she is called up, she must answer and answer fully."

"A girl will." She promised.

"Good." He said simply. "Valar morghulis." He said then, the familiar words rolling over her ears.

"Valar dohaeris." She answered, knowing it was his way of saying farewell."

Jaqen left but Arya remained in her spot until the noise swelled and the troop began to pass. She remained in her spot the hours it took before the last Lannister banner was out of sight. Only then did she rise to her feet and make her way back to the keep.

She wasn't quite sure what she expected, but she felt surprised when she found out her sole remaining Southern companion had been moved inside the keep and to the room previous occupied by Prince Trystane. It wouldn't do to leave him in the empty fields alone, after all. How would that look upon their hospitality or the continued piece between their two families? She found herself seated across from him when the noon meal was served, having returned to the main hall in just enough time to partake and fill her stomach.

She found, also to her slight surprise, that both Jon and Gendry were in attendance, along with the Dragon Queen, the rest of her family, and a few select others. All were oddly quiet. She glanced over at Gendry once she was settled, wondering how he was dealing with having his paternity called out so publicly and then devolve into such chaos. He seemed uncomfortable and out of place. She noticed his clothes were of a better quality than they'd been in the past, and northern in style. They made him look even more similar to his father in his own youth- when he'd still been strong and fit, wielding a war hammer like most men wielded a sword, though she personally had no way of knowing that to make such a connection.

She broke her gaze away when it became clear he wasn't going to look up from his plate and glanced around the rest of the table instead. Jaime was watching her but glanced away when she looked back at him. She held back a frown and continued on. When her eyes landed on Bran, she was surprised to find him already looking back at her with the oddly blank stare she'd become familiar with since her return. She looked back at him curiously, wondering at his thoughts. His own eyes moved away eventually and she finally started eating her meal.

"Sister?" Bran said, breaking the silence as people began to finish. "Might you help me to the Godswood?" Arya looked up to find him watching her again and not looking at Sansa so knew which sister he was speaking to. She nodded easily enough, both because it gave her an excuse not to linger and because she was truly curious what he wanted to speak about, for he didn't speak much at all now a days, so every instance was meaningful.

She stood and moved around the table to take hold of his wheeled-chair and pull him away from the others. He didn't speak again until they turned down the pathway leading into the trees, and neither was phased when they came to and then passed the spot the Night King had fallen. "There are things you need to know." He told her, speaking without warning.

"What things?"

"Things that are not mine to tell."

"How will I learn of them, then?"

"May ways, some better than others." He told her vaguely.

"If not the things I need to know, what do you wish to tell me?"

"You need to know that everything that has happened was necessary to get us to this point. It will be necessary to get us though the challenges we are still yet to face. The gods may seem cruel at times, the people thoughtless and lacking heart, but just remember that everything had to happen or we wouldn't be were we are today."

Her eyes dropped from the back of his head to the chair held beneath her palms and wondered if one of the 'things' he was referencing was his own fall and injuries. Her feet came to a stop and she moved around him so she could see his face instead. "Are both things related?"

"Everything is related."

"Who can tell me the things I need to know, if not you?"

"That's not for me to say." "

Arya let out a breath in frustration. "It seems you only speak in riddles these days, brother."

Bran smiled at that. It wasn't the same tooth bearing grin he'd had before things had gone to hell, but it was a smile none the less and seemed true, despite being less overt. "Once you know you'll understand why it can't come from me, but once you know, once you accept, so will he."

Tbc

**Notes:**

How is everyone doing with the COVID situation? I personally live close to one of the US hotspots, but am far enough away that it's only tickling into the hospital I work at so far, so we're holding steady here. For those of you who may be in quarantine or are under orders to shelter in place or stay home, I hope this brightened your Friday night/weekend a little bit.

As always, thank you for reading. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Summary: Jaime and Arya bonding for literally almost this entire chapter... Sorry not sorry?

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Arya was able to secure the tools and ingredients she needed by nightfall and sequestered herself away in a damaged and abandoned tower on in a part of the keep rarely patrolled- especially since the fight, when all forces were reduced, if not as much as they could have been. She used her thin finger knife to slowly and carefully peal back the dark sink of the berry, leaving as much of the colorless flesh beneath intact as she possibly could. Once done, she added the small amount of skin to a tiny tin held over a large candle, holding just the smallest amount of water needed to fully submerge the deep red husk.

The innards she took to dicing while the flesh simmered away, doing her best to ensure even sized squares were left behind. She had a variety of vials laid out atop the table were she worked and once the innards were prepared to her satisfaction, she sprinkled the smallest amount of powder from one glass container and then dripped one liquid drop of another over each individual and evenly spaced squares.

She mentally counted to 300- for five minutes broken down into seconds, and then added the sizzling squares to the simmering water containing the skin. She used her small finger knife to mix the concoction, though she was careful not to slice off any smaller pieces, for it would be catastrophic if any were to breakdown before the others.

After another 600 seconds, she used a long and slender stone to smash the chunks into the water, using small circular strokes until they had lost their shape completely and had become bits of mush floating in the surrounding liquid.

Once the consistency had regained it's smoothness, she added exactly 17 drops of liquid, evenly spaced, from a third vial. The mixture began to look the faintest pink, but only for a minute before the chemicals further broke down and it regained its clear shimmer within the small metal bowl, the bleached skin left floating on the top and bereft of its once deep red sheen.

It had been simmering long enough at that point that the moisture had reduced by half, and so she pulled the metal from the flame and set it atop her workspace to cool. It seemed to take an age, but her forcefully gained patience paid out and she remained perched upon the chair until it had lost enough heat to be the same temperature as her flesh.

Task finally finished, she poured the small amount of liquid into an equally small vial and then took a deep whiff to see if it bore the same smell she was hoping and expecting.

Notes of Cherries and the faintest undertone of anise greeted her senses and she allowed her lips to stretch into a smile of accomplishment, perhaps because no one was around to see.

Task complete, she cleared her work space until it seemed she was never there in the first place and then she retreated to the more occupied sections of the keep.

She came upon Jaime before she reached the walls proper, looking annoyed and five minutes from fleeing the premises completely. He spotted her a moment after she did him, color high on his cheeks and clearly agitated.

"What has you all worked up?" She questioned as she came closer, her own mood still high from her recent success and readiness to make the next move.

"What has me all worked up?" He repeated mockingly, and perhaps more derisively than he meant to portray. "Aside from the fact that I find myself the only Southern left remaining in this wintery hell and with little I can do about it, thanks very much to you. What has you in such a _good_ fucking mood?" He asked in return, tone harsh.

Her steps almost faltered, but her even control held true and her strides remained smooth until she slowed to a stop several feet from him. "Nothing that will help your own bearing, I'm afraid." She told him evenly.

"Why did you request I travel with you?" He asked her then, gaze focused fully and steadily on her for the first time since she spotted him.

"I didn't, your Father insisted upon the arrangement despite my argument." She denied.

"Did he truly? Well that's about the height of impropriety. I'd ask 'why' but I suppose the answer is obvious. Still rather bold of him considering where we are." The blond drawled, still clearly on edge and seemingly torn between stepping closer to her or turning away from her completely. "Look, I know I'm to stay and travel with you, but I may wait for you to be ready to depart at the road.

"Don't be ridiculous, we're going to have to spend weeks camping in the snow already- why would you want to start such a thing before you need to?"

Oh, why indeed?

Ten Minutes Prior ~ Jaime's POV

Why in the Seven Hells did everything have to be so dark and depressing in the North? Jaime mused as he made his way towards an exit, needing to escape the looming presence of Winterfell felt overhead. Granted, the overcast sky and snow-covered grounds were still dreary enough on their own, but at least he could breath some fresh air and have something other than candlelit stone and depressing tapestries to look upon for a time.

The North had always been his least favorite part of Westeros, and that opinion hadn't changed with age. Still, it had been more bearable when he'd had Bronn and the other soldiers to take company with. Since the army had left, he'd found himself near abandoned with the Starks and remaining guests while the person responsible for his presence had quite successfully disappeared, as she was want to do on nary a whim.

When he was finally reached the outside, Jaime found himself much lighter, if still regretting his continued presence in this Northern wasteland after he though he'd be on the move back towards home. His feet took him a distance from the main building and once away from it he found himself quite unwilling to return to the miserable confines of the keep and instead choose to wander and explore the grounds in depth. His eyes were watchful as he traveled and he found himself taking in the work being done to repair what damage resulted and remained from the Long Night.

Further he went, eventually passing aimlessly by the smithy. He wouldn't have spared the building a second glance if the door didn't open and a familiar face appeared, followed by another.

Arya's brother Jon was followed by Roberts newly discovered bastard, Gendry. The man Arya seemed to have quite a past with and yet declined to speak about.. The man of which he knew little about and yet had a clear presence in the Lannister's mind. He allowed his feet to come to a stop in a somewhat shadowed corner of the road, curious despite himself and wondering what he might observe as an invisible party bearing witness.

His gaze scanned over Snow before moving to the other and lingering there. He had quite an impressive bearing, Jaime couldn't help but notice as he watched the two exchange obviously friendly words. The young man was tall and obviously strong- muscles cut and clearly defined on display as they were. He had Robert's strong and handsome features that he'd bore in his youth, before the years and wine added up and left their marks on his body and mind. The bastard was bare chested and sweating despite the frigid chill his flesh was exposed to. He nodded to whatever the Stark bastard was saying, neck muscles flexing with the movement. His dark hair was damp and sticking up at odd angles, but it didn't take away from his rugged, careless charm.

He'd seen the man interact with Arya from a distance- had picked up on whatever it was from their past that lingered and yet seemed to go unspoken between them since their reunion and yet left Arya's shoulders tense once they went their separate ways. He absently wondered if he would somehow manage the secure the Baratheon lordship and all that came with it- bachelor status included, as the Dragon Queen had so boldly decreed. He knew his father would marry Arya to someone, himself or someone yet unknown. He wondered if another alliance would be struck to renew the Lannister/Baratheon alliance and still secure one indirectly with their family, the Starks and the North with the same move. He wondered if Arya would argue the match, if it was offered, of it she would accept it as an acceptable alternative to her initial agreement with his father.

He wondered why he was allowing his mind to wander in such meaningless directions then, as he watched as Snow clasped the other bastard on his bare shoulder with a smile and then turn on his heel. Blue eyes caught on his form as he too moved to turn away and the sight of the Lannister caused him to pause in that movement.

The bastard's expression tightened immediately and became pinched. Jaime wondered what the other man was thinking and the exchange continued, the seconds seeming to almost slow down as they examined each other from across the cobblestone. For a moment, just a moment, Jaime wished Joffrey's attempts to cull the world of his 'Fathers' bastards had been more successful before his felt a twist of disgust with himself for thinking it.

He pulled his eyes away dismissively and continued on his way. It was only a couple of minutes after that he stumbled upon the very woman he'd been musing about.

"Mayhap I wish to escape the fools that inhabit these walls as quickly as possible." He told her, bringing himself back to her question.

"Careful, that is largely my family you speak of." She told him sternly, though amusement caused her lips to twitch.

"And yet I hear no denunciations cross your lips in their defense."

Her smile widened just slightly, but she did not otherwise acknowledge his words. "Is that why you are out here now?" His shoulder twitched into a nodding shrug, for it was and it wasn't, but he didn't feel like discussing such things, and especially not with her. "Would you care to spar with me, then?" She asked to his lack of a verbal response. "I could do with a good stretch, my muscles are getting tight. And you look like you could use a good fight."

His jaw twitched and she though he might say something, but whatever the words, he bit them back and nodded silently, gesturing her to lead the way. She didn't move towards the main courtyard, not really in the mood for spectators and knowing his own desire to get away from people just then. Instead, she led him back in the direction from which she'd come, to a more secluded clearing in a remote part of the keep that was surrounded by broken towers and scattered broken bricks and rubble that people rarely came to.

She drew her always present blade with a challenging grin, twirling it as she waited for him to draw his own much larger and heavier blade to hand. Once they were both armed, they began without hesitation, moving in sync. The dance was familiar between them and yet they were both skilled enough to keep each of them on their toes and only just keeping up with the other.

"You should stand side-face." She told him breathlessly after the flat of her blade connected rather painfully with his lower back.

"I'm a Westerosi Knight, not a Braavosi dancer. 'Side-face' isn't a position in my skill set." He grunted, arguing back playfully, tone much lighter than it had been before they began.

"Humm. I know you are advancing in your years, but I did not think you so old yet that you could not add new skills to your repertoire."

"'Advancing in my years'?!" He repeated back, something nearing true offence coating his voice. Arya ducked his swing and stepped closer to him, wrapping her leg through and around his in an attempt to force him to lose his balance, her blade pinning his own by the guard. He was able to keep his footing and the exchange became of struggle of brute strength, an area of which Arya was admittedly lacking in when compared to him. "Some might argue that I'm in the prime of my life." He huffed a moment later as he turned the tables on her and used her own entangled footing to force her to her back, successfully using her own move against her.

"Some? Might those 'some' be the same age as you? Or older? If so, I'm afraid they don't count to argue in your favor." She managed to snark, despite losing her breath from the sudden landing.

His jaw gaped slightly and he acted instinctively and childishly from his indignation, dropping his blade to grab a handful of snow to fling in her face. Arya let out a shocked laugh and tried to wiggle free from where she was still pinned beneath his hold. She wasn't successful, but she distracted him enough that he didn't notice her left hand grab a handful of snow herself, which she tucked without warning into back of his cloak.

"Shit!" He exclaimed from the sudden chill on his neck that tumbled down his back as he rose to his feet. He reached behind himself in an attempt to shake it loose and didn't see Arya spring forward, successfully forcing him to the ground in his distraction and causing him to get covered in even more of the cold white powder. He cursed again and reached for her, managing to snag her ankle before she could rise and yanking her back down with him. Their struggle quickly escalated into an all out wrestling match, snow used liberally as a weapon and the two fairly evenly matched despite their very different tactics.

"Okay, okay, stop." Arya exclaimed, breathless, place skin reddened from the ice crystals an unknown amount of time later as she broke free and collapsed beside him on the groud. Her head turned towards him to find him already looking back, shaggy hair wet from snowmelt and his cheeks flushed from the cold.

She couldn't imagine how she must look, for she'd scarcely taken the time to braid her hair and knew it had mostly come lose in the scuffle. However she appeared, he didn't seem put off because he rolled halfway towards her and propped himself up on his elbow. He paused above her, eyes suddenly serious as he studied her expression for only a moment before lowering his head to press his frozen lips to her own.

She stilled beneath him before a hand rose to press lightly against his bicep. His breath was the warmest thing she'd felt in some time and the feeling seemed to spread until she her entire face felt warm, followed by her neck and chest. She hesitated slightly, torn, and he seemed to sense it for he paused and pulled back to study her once again, this time questioningly.

"You would refuse me again?" he murmured, though she hadn't yet said or done anything to express such a thought. He seemed disappointed. "And what must I do to once again gain your acceptance?" He asked, tone pitched low.

"How frustrating it must be to be so consumed by the needs of a cock." She told him crassly rather than answering. "It seems you've thought of little else in recent days."

"You say that as though it should be an insult when it is little more than the truth of manhood. We all think with our cocks, whether we admit to it or not. Some of us are just more honest about it than others. I would have thought you would appreciate such honesty considering your own disdain for the complexities and expectations of society." Their eyes locked and his head tilted. "You're truly not tempted? Not even a little bit? No, that's not the problem, is it? You're still offended I won't marry you."

"It's interesting you seem to think so when it's you who keeps mentioning the idea. I told you before, I would never want anyone to marry me who wasn't willing- that hasn't changed, and won't, no matter how many times you mention it or try to guilt me for asking- Just as your unwillingness won't change. I've accepted such facts, I don't see the need to keep bringing it up. Can we not simply move on from the idea, as we should? I can't speak for you, but I do rather enjoy your company regardless."

He didn't seem terribly pleased with the idea, his brows furrowing as he pushed himself into a seated position as well. "Fine, let us move on." He agreed regardless, too stubborn to argue for his true thoughts, regardless of his conflicted feelings on the subject or intrinsic need to speak up.

"It's nearly time for supper. We should return to the keep for the night." Arya said next, rising fully to her feet and then dipping down to grab her blade from where it still lay in the snow, wincing slightly at the water coating it and silently making a note to oil it when she got back to her chambers.

"Tell me one thing first." He requested, following suit and then turning towards her, stepping closer so they were mere inches apart. She raised her brow in silent acknowledgement and so he continued- "Do you regret it? Lying with me?"

She didn't answer immediately, giving him the consideration to think it over first though she already knew the answer. "No." She told him after a moment. "I don't regret it."

"You seem to, most days." He told her then. "I'm not quite sure what to make of your thoughts on the matter, and you seem determined to speak in naught but riddles on the subject."

"I don't regret it." She told him again. "I only, well. I suppose I don't particularly like knowing my future is well and truly out of my hands. I find myself questioning my decisions, wondering if I have chosen correctly to bring me here and yet I cannot find anything that I would truly change. "Do you regret it?" She asked him then, almost a challenge.

He reached out and ran the very tips of his fingers over the cut of her cheekbone before his hand dropped again. "No, I don't regret it either. I only wish things could be different."

"If you wish things could be different, why not make them so?" She pressed.

"It's not that simple." He told her softly and continue to watch her for several long moments before he nodded, something conflicted in his eyes. "You're right though, I'm the one who keeps bringing it up. I'll make you a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"I won't mention it again, and we both go back to acting how we were before the idea was ever mentioned at all."

"You know that's not a simple thing either." Arya pointed out logically, though did not reuse outright.

"I know." He agreed. "But I like you, Stark. I want your company, however I might gain it. Before my father began scheming, we had a good thing going, you and I. Surely I'm not the only one to miss such times."

Arya looked up at him thoughtfully for a long moment. "We have a long journey ahead of us." She said aloud.

"Aye." He agreed but did not speak beyond that acknowledgement.

"And we'll be alone, traveling in close quarters."

"Aye." He said again, voice just slightly deeper.

"Better we start out on good terms, yes? And what better terms than to ignore the events of the past and pretend things are easy and perfect." Her words were clearly sarcastic and bluntly honest, but not intended to change the outcome of the conversation.

"Not perfect." He denied, "but better than the alternative."

"Is better all we have to hope for?" She mused aloud, studying the way his eyes seemed to almost starburst in their coloring from so close.

"Maybe not forever… But for now, I think better is okay. What say you?"

"Okay," She agreed after a final pause. "We shall pretend the events of the past several weeks haven't happened and move on in unison."

"Praise the Gods, she's seen reason!" Jaime exclaimed then, though quietly with a teasing edge.

"Reason by who's standard?" Arya challenged playfully in turn, lighter herself despite knowing such an agreement between was a superficial patch and naught else.

"By mine, I suppose." He told her with a raised brow as she laughed. He too knew this false calm wouldn't last, but he was determined to make the most of her good mood whilst it lasted and was his to bring forth.

Notes: Happy Easter to those of you who observe the holiday! I didn't intend for nearly this entire chapter (all but about 500 words) to be Arya/Jaime, but I find I really don't mind! I hope you enjoyed their interaction as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, I look forward to hearing what you think. Thank you all so much for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Summary:

Revised Chapter 22, sorry for it's disappearance!

Notes:

Hi All... So when I decided to post what I had, I didn't re-read it first like I normally do... Well I re-read it this morning and I apologize to those of you who read that garbage chapter before I deleted it. It was clunky, events repeated themselves, there were tons of typos- so bad I didn't want to leave it up while I took the time to edit it. Anyways, here is a revised (and much smoother) version of chapter 22. Thank you.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Arya and Jaime entered the dining hall together a few minutes later, the damp and mussed state of them drawing several lingering gazes as they passed through the cavernous room to their designated seats at the head table. She noticed Bran watching them with an unfocused gaze and wondered what he was thinking, wondered just what he'd been alluding to back in the Godswood, wondered just how much longer she would have to wonder before she was able to gain some answers.

"Brother." She greeted, taking her seat between him and Sansa, Jaime moving to his own seat across from her, though one to the right.

Bran's gaze turned to her fully and he offered her the ghost of a smile. "Good eve, Sister?" He asked, tone knowing.

"A very good eve." She told him evenly, unashamed. "And yours?"

"Rather average." He replied blandly.

Despite his sounding rather uncaring, Arya frowned at his words. She knew it was hard for him to move freely when he was so dependent on others for help. The Bran she remembered from her youth had always been on the run, had been such a daring boy, always climbing and jumping and running to and fro. He may be older now, grown and aged far beyond his years, but he was still Bran at the heart of himself, and she would bet he missed being able to move freely.

"I've heard tell you've a saddle that allows you to ride your horse?" Arya aske after filling her plate.

"Yes, though it has been some time since I've had a chance to use it."

Arya hummed quietly. "I've thought about riding out to the steaming lake a few leagues from here, showing Jaime our lands beyond the walls, now that the danger's passed. I'd be good to get some fresh air.. Would you care to join us?" She asked, taking care to sound casual as she tilted her head to include Jaime, though they hadn't spoken of any such thing before then.

Bran's head tilted towards her as he gave her his full attention. "That sounds rather nice, actually." He mussed aloud. "It would be good to get outside of the walls again."

"Can I come too?" Rickon asked from his other side, his wilding caretaker rounding off their side of the table.

"Of course, if Mother allows." Arya told him easily enough, though she wasn't quite sure what the woman's answer would be.

Catelyn thought for a moment before she responded. "I suppose I don't see why not." She finally said slowly, looking between them with lightly furrowed brows.

"We could all go." Robb stated with a large smile. "It's been some time- years- since I've been myself, and Talisa's never been." Catelyn looked more reassured at that, a small smile coming to her face.

'The steaming lake' was a rather large pond nearly an hour ride Southwest of Winterfell. It was fed by one of the many hot springs in the area but was one of the largest single bodies of water hot enough to melt the snow and yet cool enough not to sear flesh. Bran and Rickon were had been rather young to remember it well the last time their parents had taken them there for a family outing- a swim and a picknick- but Robb, Jon, Sansa, and Arya had spent many long summer days lakeside- for Winterfell rarely lacked a chill completely, and so swimming in a normal pond was rather crazy an idea, even in the height of Summer.

The lake was located within a small wood and so surrounded by green foliage in the summer. A small amount of it remained always thanks to the warmth from the pool leaching into the surrounding ground preventing it from freezing and killing the plants rooted within. The heat obviously also kept the water itself from freezing when the temperature dropped, and so drew an abundance of animals to its edges when liquid water was harder to come by. That abundance made it a fruitful hunting ground.

More than once, Ned would take them along with him and a few of his men on a hunting trip only to drop them off and allow them to swim in the crystal clear waters while the men hunted nearby. They would collect them at the end of the day, when they were ready to head back to the keep.

Some of the best memories she had left of her childhood had taken place at that lake. "Sure." Arya agreed with Robb's suggestion in slight surprise, bringing herself back to the present. "If you can find the time, _your Majesty_." She emphasized, just to be a brat and distract herself from her reminiscences.

"I can find the time." He drawled in turn, unimpressed. "What do you think?" He asked then, turning to his lady wife and reaching out to brush against her stomach out of sight of the rest of the room, helpfully hidden by the large table. "Can you handle being on horseback for an hour at a time? I'm afraid the trails too rough for a cart to pass." He told her apologetically.

"I can handle an hour on horseback just fine. You worry too much, husband." She rebuked gently.

Robb seemed to want to reply himself but no words passed his lips as he seemed to hold his tongue. "Great." He said instead. "Mother, Sansa? Would either of you like to join us?"

"Oh goodness no, not me." Catelyn said immediately. "I'm getting rather old to travel in the snow if I can help it. I'll stay here, but you children should have fun."

Sansa looked torn, but after her gaze passed over each of her siblings- including her good-sister- she couldn't help but accept, which she did with a shallow bow of her head. "I only hope we remember the way." She said aloud, the words playful but with a rather serious edge hidden within.

Arya glanced across at Jaime as Robb spoke up in reassurance, to see how he was taking the progression of the conversation and the news that she'd volunteered him to spend several hours alone with her siblings. He seemed to sense her gaze, for his head turned towards her to peer into her eyes, his own blank and hard to read. Still, he raised his glass in what was probably a mocking toast, so he couldn't be too upset with her.

Dinner was finished rather quickly and they all went their separate ways for bed before too much longer had passed. Arya retreated to her own room alone, dismissing her waiting hand-maiden before she could even speak to offer her services, though she still continued to try morning and night- or at least, when Arya was still in her room late enough in the morn for her to be present when the young woman came knocking.

A bath stood waiting for her, as had become the norm. She eyed it with a light frown as she moved around her childhood bedroom to put away a few things and tidy a few others. She didn't have much that she cared about anymore, granted, but she found herself much more bothered by mess and clutter than she'd been in her youth after spending so long with only the barest necessities and oftentimes even lacking those. She might have lingered in the great hall, or have joined someone else in taking company for a time before bed, but there was so much scrutiny, even still, that she wanted nothing more than to retreat for the night by the time the meal was eaten and it was considered "polite" to take leave.

She eventually stripped bare and climbed into the still hot tub for a lack of anything else to do, hoping the warmth and fragrant oils wafting from the water would relax her muscles and smooth her journey to sleep if nothing else.

They gathered and set off mid-way between breakfast and lunch the next day, a mule trailing behind them carrying provisions. The journey there passed by easily enough, bouts of conversation rising and fading as the hour passed by, excitement growing as it was announced they were close.

The path was familiar despite the years that had passed, and so they soon arrived at their destination without nary a hiccup. The pond was also as she remembered it, more or less. It looked slightly smaller, and the furthest banks were covered in snow rather than foliage, but the water was just as clear- sparkling blue and steaming with warmth- as she remembered it being.

The pit cleared at the edge for a fire was familiar too, once they dismounted and cleared it of snow. They'd had the forethought to bring seasoned and dry wood with them and soon had a merry fire going beside the pond for when they were ready to eat the lunch they'd also brought. The horses were anchored to a log that had been modified for just that purpose years and years before. It was close enough to the bank that there was a scarce bit of grass for them to nibble on, which was more than they'd had since the deep snows had set in.

Necessary tasks done, the older Starks quickly stripped down to the modest clothes they wore under their outdoor ware and entered the water. Rickon followed without reserve, but Bran held up a hand to prevent Hodor from assisting him into the water, while Jaime, Talisa and her two children stood beside the horses watching them as if they were all senseless.

When she'd first entered the water, Arya had a sharp moment of longing for the warm Eastern air and sparkling seas that were deep enough to truly swim in and yet could be moody enough to challenge anyone fit enough and daring enough to face them at their worst. Granted, steamy hot spring was nice in many of its own ways, it just wasn't the same and didn't bring the same thrill as it had when she'd been a young child.

She'd attempted to hid the emotion, but she had a suspicion Jaime saw past her blank face by the look in his own eye when she glanced up at him- a mixture of understanding, longing of his own, and the baseline disgust she knew he bore for her homeland- a feeling of which she was finding it more and more difficult to rebuke, even in her own heart, the longer she was home.

She was distracted from her thoughts as her eldest brother spoke loudly up. "Come, don't you wish to join us?" He called playfully, splashing towards his wife and children.

"Can we, mummy?" Aenela asked, peering up at her mother. "Please?"

Talisa looked from her daughter to her son, who looked just as eager to join his father as his sister did. "Oh, very well. I suppose you are both half-Northern, so I should have expected this sort of thing to happen eventually." She sighed, though her lips tugged into a smile as she gave in and knelt down to help remove their outer layers and shoes.

Jon, Sansa, and Rickon had moved deeper into the pond. Deeper, in this case, meant further away, not actually in depth- for even in the deepest point of the water, their feet could touch the ground. Bran had moved further along the bank, so he was settled across from where they'd congregated. Robb was distracted by his wife and children, and so Arya 'swam' to the edge a bit further away from her brother and closer to where Jaime stood, several feet away. "Not coming in?" She asked coyly.

"I don't think so." He replied easily with a doubtful brow cocked down at her.

"Why not?" She pressed.

He let out a light laugh before he answered, despite the light frown being laughed at earned him. "The water may be warm, but everywhere else's still fucking cold. You're going to have to get out eventually, and... then what? You freeze the whole ride back?"

"Of course not." Arya rebuked. "That's what the fire's for. Our swim clothes will be perfectly dry before we dress in our outer ware and make the journey back home. We're not stupid." She was aware of Talisa and the children entering the water, Robb reaching out for his son to help float while Talisa kept a firm hold on their daughter. They too moved further towards the middle where the rest of their siblings had ended up.

"Of course not." Jaime repeated, only a bit mocking. "You're only bathing outdoors in the dead of winter, surrounded by snow and ice, more than an hour from the keep."

"Wouldn't be the first time you and I have bathed outdoors." She told him, voice lower, quietly enough that none of their companions could hear across the distance, obviously alluding to their time spent as her hidden, much smaller, spring outside the gates.

"First time it involved your family." He argued, just as quietly, stepping slightly closer.

"Do they scare you?" She drawled.

"Of course not." He scoffed lowly. "And don't think such an obvious manipulation is going to convince me to join you."

"Why not?" She asked, decidedly _not_ pouting, though she was a tempted. "You did come all this way."

"Aye, I did, and it's been nice to get out for a couple of hours. Doesn't mean I'm daft enough to go swimming in the North when it's this fucking cold." He told her, unbending.

"Suit yourself." She told responded, seeming to give up for the moment. Instead, she reversed her direction in the water, using her feet to push herself backwards, her back arching to better cut though the water as she used a backstroke to pull her further away.

It left her wet modest underclothes clinging to her bust and trim waist, a fact of which she was well aware of if only from her own peripheral vision, and of which he couldn't help but play up slightly, wondering how he might respond, as she arched her back just the slightest bit more before ducking under the water completely.

When she appeared again, she wiped her eyes and glanced back over at the bank to find his eyes intently on her, hungry and focused. Having come up nearly to her siblings, she turned her back on him completely and ignored the presence she could feel standing at her back as she took a moment to observing her brothers and sisters.

Rickon had wandered a bit further away towards the far end of the pool and was peering intently down into the water- no fish could survive in these particular waters, so she hoped he wasn't searching for any, but he was clearly distracted all the same, whatever it was he was looking for. His Wildling guard hadn't gotten in the water either but rather had slunk around the pond and was watching her youngest brother from the closest point on the edge. Arya knew he was in good hands.

Robb and Jon were exchanging banter- a story from their childhood told from two different perspectives. Sansa chimed in every once in a while, while Talisa laughed brightly every so often and the children giggled in their wake- not necessarily understanding the story, but knowing their mother found mirth in it, which such knowledge being more than enough to set off their own childish giggles.

Everyone being quite thoroughly distracted, no one was left to pay attention to the two of them they'd left alone on the outskirts of the warm mineral rich waters. Satisfied, Arya pushed herself backwards, still facing her family but moving closer to Jaime as she moved blindly through the water. As she moved, the natural curves of the bank and the surrounding flora helped to give them a small semblance of privacy, though not much. She twisted around when she figured she was about halfway and once again focused her attention on the man still standing at the edge of the water.

The man in question edged just slightly closer to the water at her return. As he drew close enough to nearly dip the toe of his boot in the water, he crouched down and rested his elbows lazily across his knees. He watched as Arya came to a stop, though her arms continued to drag lazily back and forth through the water.

Her earlier, terrible, idea returned to mind, now much more feasible with his decreased distance and convenient stance. Granted, he was clearly well balanced given that he hadn't wavered in the least since settling, but surprise could do a lot to overtake a stronger foundation, she knew well. And ohh, but she wanted to see the look on his face.

She thought about giving him another chance to enter freely but didn't want to tip him off to her plans. She moved even closer, edging forward until her bare toes hit the beginning of the steep slope leading to the edge of the pool.

"Tired of the water already?" Jaime asked, voice lower as he continued to watch her slow approach, breaking the lingering silence that had set in.

"Not hardly." She told him easily.

"No? What are you doing then?" He teased, clearly taking her increasing closeness to mean something else entirely.

She didn't feel the slightest bit guilty to use that against him, allowing her lips to curl. "What am I doing?" She asked, coy. She allowed her knee to bend and rest along the rise of the slope, balancing over that forward leg so that he was within reach of her. She reached an arm out and it could have seemed like she wanted to caress his wrist and so he remained still and steady as he continued to watch her, allowing her free reign to do whatever she wanted. Instead of the sensual stroke he was clearly expecting, she wrapped her wet fingers firmly around his wrist and shifted her weight from resting on the slope to pushing firmly off of it with her foot.

The sudden force and confusion pulled him quiet easily off balance, especially considering how close to the water he rested. He let out a loud curse just before he reached the water with a massive splash, Arya only just managing to pull back far enough that he didn't land directly on her.

The voices a dozen feet away froze in surprise as Arya's bright burst of laughter broke through to almost cover Jaime's continued cursing as he pushed himself back to the surface and pushed his lengthening blond hair back from his eyes with a watery glare. The challenge in that gaze was clear.

He reached own to pull his blade free and push it back onto the grounds edge, shooting her another look for that slight. She wasn't worried about it, he took good enough care of his steel, if not his leather, that a quick drench wouldn't harm it's integrity, and that the leather would be fine if treated right… though she had the thought she might be the one helping it to recover. His dagger joined the sword and then his focus was completely on her.

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed this short and fluffy chapter. One more in Winterfell and things will start progressing pretty quickly. Thank you for reading!


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